


The Lost Documents of Julianne V. Skye

by FyerFyer



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Adventure, Biology, Codes & Ciphers, Conspiracy, Cryptography, Death, Diary/Journal, Dreams, Ghost-type Pokemon, Ghosts, Isshu-chihou | Unova Region (Pokemon), Letters, Mortality, Music, Mystery, Original Pokemon Team, Pokemon, Pokemon Battles, Pokemon References, Pokemon Trainers, Pokemon Training, Pokémon Science, Psychic-type Pokemon, Research, Secrets, Spirits, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 52,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyerFyer/pseuds/FyerFyer
Summary: My name is Aidan Rode and I have dedicated the last three years to the pursuit of a dead woman...or presumably dead. Dr. Julianne Vespera Skye, scientist, trainer, and virtuoso, was my inspiration. Twenty years ago, she vanished off the face of the Earth. Here, I gather her records in hopes of honoring her, understanding her, and, perhaps, unveiling the circumstances of her mysterious disappearance. Arceus bid me luck.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 7





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do now own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavors here.  
> In addition, the rating may change in later chapters. I will adjust accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor

Dr. Skye, prominent Unovan scientist, Pokemon trainer, and musician, was my hero. Above all, she was an enigma. Academically, she was known for breakthroughs in spiritual physics and pokelinguistics, as well as the founding of the SP department at Unova National University. Competitively, she was lauded for her strategic literature and mentorship of several current league members. Musically, she is remembered as a virtuosic cellist and for the composition of four major operas; The Sublime Apparition, Song of The Mandibuzz, The Masquerade, and Nothing to Be Done. 

Many deemed her insane for interacting closely with some of the region's most powerful and hostile pokemon species. However, it is to these relationships that she owed some of her most valuable scientific progress and profound friendships. Without Keros, her chandelure, spiritual physics would still be in its infancy, Fire-Sign might never have been discovered, and Unovan public safety protocol on chandelure would still be abysmally inadequate. In fact, it is to these policies that many members of my community can attribute their lives. 

Yet, two decades ago, at age 71, Julianne and her five remaining Pokemon vanished. She was declared legally dead on December 12th last year. Critics suspect her starter murdered its trainer and team before incinerating the bodies. This is complicated by the fact that her last known location (Aspertia's Rocky Mount Inn) was marked three weeks before the missing persons report and her chandelure has not been sighted since then. Students and family protest this theory, but are unable to posit another. I would like to believe otherwise as well, as it seems both tragic and unlikely that Keros would turn so abruptly. 

Aside from Dr. Skye's published works, many of her records were scattered or even encrypted. For the past three years, I have searched for her documents, her literary ghost, in hopes of honoring and understanding the woman who inspired me. Dead or alive, I am determined to know the fate of Julianne Vespera Skye


	2. May 15th, 11:03, The Cypress Estate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer; I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.

May 15th, 11:03, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
This morning, arrival at The Cypress estate was marked by mixed excitement and regret; mainly that I didn't pack my damn rain boots. Clarisse, blessed leavanny that she is, cobbled together some surprisingly watertight, but horrendously unfashionable booties. I accepted them, glad to be rid of my damp socks; the nemesis of mankind (truly! During the civil wars, foot infection killed soldiers by droves). However, never did I imagine ringing the doorbell of a multimillion dollar abode wearing, essentially, wet leaves. 

Trivialities aside, Maria Cypress was kind enough to provide access to her father's office. It was somehow touching and chilling all at once. Maria had instructed the staff to leave everything in place since Lorenzo's passing (there was still a faintly fragrant residue in the coffee mug). If I had been a scholar after Professor Cypress' work, this would have been a veritable goldmine. Unfortunately, I was seeking something far more elusive. Dr. Skye and Prof. Cypress frequently exchanged letters, many of which were published by his children after death. 

I find myself grateful to both Lorenzo Cypress and his family for their relationship with Julianne. Not only were they academic partners, but he was her most steadfast patron. In that case, I suppose Unova University owes its spiritual physics department as much to Prof. Cypress as Dr. Syke. He did pay for it. While walking the grounds, I couldn't help but wonder. Did they sit and discuss the configuration of soul, life-force, and anchor on the same soaked bench that I should have avoided? Did she ride Gemma through the hedges, sunlight glinting off the scolipede's exoskeleton? Did she sleep in the same guest room? With the same linens? Yep...I'm starting to sound like a creep. Moving on.

Dr. Skye attended The Pokemon Biopsychology Conference at his estate annually, and they met, as far as her habits were concerned, frequently for business and leisure. Thus, while it's clear they were fairly close, the full extent of that relationship is veiled. A few journalists and conspiracy theorists suspect they had an affair. I find this both unlikely and unsavory given Lorenzo's marital status and the age gap of 36 years. Isn't yellow journalism splendid? 

Having studied their shared documents, I have come across glaring blanks in the paper trail, gaping like collapsed bridges. As I read, I find references to former letters nonexistent in either public domain or private collections I've encountered. It's possible that many of these were simply considered mundane and disposed of shortly after they were received. After all, it's unlikely Champion Alder saves his grocery lists for posterity. 

Still, I can't put aside the possibility that even seemingly banal or frivolous correspondences might contain valuable information. Dr. Skye was practiced in linguistics and cryptography. That being said, I do hope someone saved at least a few of her grocery lists, lest they contain the encrypted secrets of her mind and heart. Perhaps obsession's made me loony. Probably. 

Only a lunatic would have sat knee deep in paperwork, locked in dusty office while their vullaby picked at their scabs. Vivi is an adorable little asshole, but entirely unsuited to this work. Her teammates were infinitely more helpful. Baron, the fluffy genius, even aided me in alphabetizing the files. I've heard his kind called dull and ordinary. However, while my brother's druddigon eats the curtains and tramples the fence, my watchog is engaged in scholarship. 

After six hours of sorting, we finally uncovered a group of letters Dr. Cypress saw fit to save. With Maria's permission, I borrowed them and will soon begin analysis...as soon as I figure out how to get the guest room thermostat above 10 celsius. You'd think they were hosting a beartic convention.


	3. May 15th, 18:42, Letter from Julianne V. Skye to Lorenzo Cypress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor

May 15th, 18:42  
Ah, the excitement! I have before me a letter unseen for decades, touched only by the hands of Prof. Cypress and Dr. Skye herself. The exact date cannot be determined, as I was unable to locate the envelope. However, assuming this was penned regarding the second annual Pokemon Biopsychology Conference (Julianne was 30), this manuscript is likely 61 years old! Here, I will deliver a transcription of the letter alongside my notes. These can be found at the bottom of the page, corresponding with numbers in the text. 

Lorenzo,  
I am delighted to accept your invitation and anticipate depleting your entire hot cocoa inventory. This generous opportunity to drink steaming chocolate deliciousness while raving to jet-lagged scientists is appreciated *1*. However, I feel liable to scold you for using that exorbitant, lilac-scented stationery *2*. Some of us mere mortals will do battle at the register for bargains on toilet paper. Louisa *3* drafted her thesis on cafeteria napkins. I should buy her a notepad before that inebriate of a roommate mops up vomit with her references and citations. 

Speaking of references, will Dr. Banyan be in attendance? I recall your interest in testing communicative signatures beyond the visible light spectrum. His equipment was recently employed in a morelull/shiinotic bioluminescence study *4*and would be ideal for the experiment you have in mind. Perhaps we can arrange something at the conference? *5* 

As for my own endeavors, I assume you wish me present on the Broca's area homologue in zoroark (I included a diagram of the cytoarchitecture with this letter. *6* Remarkable!) and the Fire Sign dialectology study. In this case, I would ask permission to incorporate my dear pokemon, Feliks and Keros, respectively *7*. Feliks in particular is enthusiastic and thought it might be prudent to do an EEG demonstration. Keros, of course, will detest every single audience member by default. Devout pessimism and antipathy are practically his religious dogma. Still, he is fervent about the research and a live example of Fire Sign would be leagues more effective than any graph or video. 

Should you be amenable to this idea, it would entail precaution. Exposing your staff and our fellow attendees to such a pokemon without warning would be rash and unfair. People often resort to hysterics in the presence of chandelure and understandably so. I've never known a species so ubiquitously dedicated to homicide (or so adept). Keros is surely misanthropic *8*, but I trust him to remain nonviolent unless provoked. However, I can make no guarantees in the event of a confrontation, especially in an environment of pandemonium. Everyone should be informed of the chandelure so that they might prepare themselves or abstain from that portion of the conference. 

I would also require a list of equipment for light, recording, amplification, etc that will be used at the venue. At high intensity, negative spiritual energy may cause interference or damage to certain systems *9* It would be unfortunate if the speakers began to broadcast sonata for chainsaw, static television, and smoke alarm, or better yet, exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel (unless that's the plan, you terrific old bastard)*10*. Ideally, I would receive such a list within the next couple of weeks so I can evaluate Keros' compatibility with your technology. 

On an unrelated note, did you give any more thought to the Undella bay dive I proposed? With your carracosta and my eelektross for an escort, frillish would be wary of simply floating in our vicinity, let alone mounting an attack. I am aware that you have advanced diving and spelunking experience on Hoenn's underwater routes, which would prove an asset here *11*. Regardless of your final decision, I will proceed. Yet, let it not go unsaid that your company would be missed. A potentially transformative experience awaits, and its call is both emphatic and alluring. *12* Who are we to disregard that? 

And now, for our exchange of marvelous romantic escapades! I am intrigued as to how that emolga managed to garner the attentions of your ferrothorn *13*. On this end of the pen, I thought you might be amused by another glimpse into Milo's amorous mission. I've seen him flaunt his wattles and shake his tail-feathers for other unfezant, archeops, swoobats, humans, and even one very confused gigalith. Now, he seeks the affection of his own comrade; Gemma. Despite being completely genetically incompatible and over seventy times his weight, our dear scolipede seems to admire Milo's dancing. I'm not certain she understands the implications though. As of yet, I am unable to determine Milo's odds of success. She would probably be more receptive if he slaughtered a sawsbuck and presented her with its corpse. If I intended to woo a scolipede, that would be my course. 

Do you remember the Galarian songbook I lent you? Last night, I witnessed the most sublime performance of the 6th piece. *14* Those crystalline sonorities, floating flutterings of the soprano voice, simply cannot be described. The whisper of a cutiefly's wing would shatter them. Not only is it a beautiful tune, but the lyrics are lovely as well. We should discuss them at a later date. *15*

For now, I bid you and your family (human and pokemon alike) health and joy.  
Sincerely,  
JVS

P.S. Today's lucky numbers are 84, 23, 16, 57, 49, 72, 63, 1, 58, and 48! *16*

*1* Dr Skye was rumored to drink 5 cups of cocoa daily. She claimed the flavanols enhanced neuroprotection and cognitive modulation.

*2* I've always found her financial habits to be curious. Though Julianne spent liberally on her pokemon and cello, other purchases were marked by frugality. I believe this to be a byproduct of her financially unstable childhood.

*3*Louisa Baumer was a friend of Julianne's who would become a musicologist on the classical repertoire of the Kalos region. In their youth, they played in a string quartet. Louisa was the violist.

*4* She's referencing a study that appears in the 10th edition of PokeCell Unova; "Spectroscopy of Luciferase Reactions in Morelull and Shiinotic." As this letter came after the Banyan study and before the conference, Julianne must have written it in either April or late May.

*5* They did arrange something, but I had thought Dr. Banyan approached Julianne, not the other way around. Dr. Skye and Emil Cypress, Lorenzo's son, traveled to Alola. There, they collaborated with Dr. Banyan, performing tests on Keros and a dozen native litwick convinced to volunteer. The results initiated an investigation of ultraviolet inflection and can be seen on pages 260-267 of her "Treatise on Fire Sign."

*6* It's not here. Arceus fucking dammit.

*7* She received permission. Apparently, one audience member fled the building when a chandelure without dampeners was released onstage (despite warning).

*8*Julianne made no excuses for chandelure; not even her own.

*9*There are hundreds of reports regarding power surges, equipment malfunctions, and even wifi problems around high-energy spirits. Julianne claimed that Keros had his own radio station, tuned exclusively to ominous ghost noises.

*10* I think she's joking. It can be hard to tell. When she says things like this, it makes sense how she bonded with a litwick and zorua.

*11* I was unaware Professor Cypress had been diving in Hoenn. In addition, why mention spelunking specifically in regards to a trip to Undella bay? As far as I know, that's mostly open water.

*12* Something is wrong here. These are not the words of a vacationer. The language is simply too strong. Julianne was not one to call a vacation a "transformative experience." However, if Dr. Skye were inviting Prof Cypress along on a study, she would have been more explicit. Does she fear the letter will be intercepted? And why?

*13* Me too.

*14* I will have to go through the books in Prof. Cypress' office tomorrow. Hopefully the book of Galar art songs is still there.

*15* I performed a comprehensive search in my database. The art songs book is mentioned several times, but this piece wasn't discussed. It seems they never spoke of the same song twice.

*16* I have never been able to fathom Dr. Skye's fascination with lucky numbers. According to her own journals and interviews, she didn't ascribe to such superficial, unsupported superstitions. Julianne believed in chance and entropy. She also believed that they could be manipulated by spiritual forces and she probably understood these forces more than any human before her. Was this a momentary lapse? A joke? I'm not sure. It seems unlikely that she would simply fling them into a postscript, yet here they are. I suppose I'll have to do some numerology research.


	4. May 16th, 14:33, The Emerald Meadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor

May 16th, 14:33, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  


This morning, I nearly traumatized several small children. Apparently, Maria's precious grandkids are accustomed to gallivanting about the entire estate, flinging open doors without precaution. I closed my bathrobe just in time. After half an hour of pointless and uncomfortable chatter, I was able to usher the invaders out and put on my boxers. Clarisse was sad to see the children leave (Baron markedly less so). Vivi found the entire thing to be fucking hilarious. Figures. 

I then began my hunt for Dr. Skye's aforementioned Galarian songbook. The first few hours were entirely, maddeningly unfruitful. I'll admit, I was considering going online and simply buying the book. Maybe, by time the fresh copy arrived, I would have torn apart the office and found the musty, crumbling antique. 

However, Maria, my hero, visited with sitrus berry cookies and information that saved me 4,523 pokedollars (plus shipping and handling). According to her, Lorenzo kept the book, not in his office, but in the piano bench compartment. By some miracle, it was still there. In fact, I had been sitting on it last night (during a questionable improv session...I may be harmonically challenged). 

Having finally found the blasted book, I discovered that the 6th song was called "The Emerald Meadow," by composer Elise Laurette. My team and I listened to a few recordings. Clarisse wept and Vivi shrieked. I think she was trying to sing. My brother gave me that vullaby in acknowledgment of my appreciation for Dr. Skye's opera, "Song of The Mandibuzz," but, let me assure you, the title is ironic. Vullaby and mandibuzz song, if it can be called that, is as strident as it is unpleasant. If this house weren't so enormous, I would have definitely received a noise complaint by now.

Regardless, "The Emerald Meadow" is a beautiful piece. It almost makes me wish I were a soprano. If they'd gotten me before puberty we could have arranged that. However, I've since missed the window of opportunity and the surgical procedure is highly unpopular anyway. 

Below, I have provided a transcription of the lyrics...

Galarian Arias and Art Songs for Soprano, 5th Edition  
The Emerald Meadow (D major)- Elise Laurette 

One morning I walked to the emerald meadow  
Heart so tender and heavy in hand  
And I buried that heart in the emerald meadow  
N'er to see sunlight again  
But from the soil, from the gloom  
From the tomb a sunflower grew  
And adamant in its course reached high  
To follow the sun across the sky  
Then o'er my face the light did sweep  
And from my eye such sweet streams seeped  
Thus, I'll adore you, brilliant sun  
Until, in the meadow, I die 

If the Cypress-Skye affair conspiracists got their hands on this I believe the world would end.  
That aside, her secretive presentation of the work does raise questions. Why not simply write "The Emerald Meadow" or even "the Laurette piece" in her letter? Julianne was much more vague than usual, providing only that this was the sixth title in a book of Galarian songs. Going online, there are hundreds of similar books, many of which were published before this letter. The ability to find this piece depends entirely on Lorenzo having the same edition of Galarian Arias and Art Songs for Soprano. 

I've performed several cross references with Dr. Skye's other manuscripts and historical sources online. While I've learned quite a bit about the piece and composer (for example, some scholars think Elise was romantically involved with her gothitelle), I feel that I'm missing something. I believe it's time to reanalyze Julianne's letter for insight.


	5. May 17th, 04:00, Death's Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 17th, 04:00, Travel log of Aidan Rode,  
Eureka! By Reshiram's enormous fiery balls, I have it! I should also probably have more sleep...but that's inconsequential. The point is, Dr. Skye's letter is more mysterious than it seems and my fixation on her lucky numbers was entirely merited.

I woke up around 02:30 this morning to piss and, after tripping over Baron, had an epiphany. Julianne was familiar with cryptography and that letter possessed all the elements of a rudimentary book cipher. Throbbing hematoma aside, I believe falling gracelessly on the floor has been a rewarding experience for me. Head trauma really clears the mind. My leavanny was less enthused. She may or may not be icing my bruises right now. 

Anyway, most book ciphers employ running cipher keys. Julianne, instead, took a rather elementary route, but still ingenious, namely because the book she used was so rare. The fifth edition of Galarian Arias and Art Songs for Soprano had been out of print for over a decade and the newer editions reorganized their song selections. Even if an interceptor were able to identify the book based on Dr. Skye's letter, knowledge of this specific edition would be required. With only a few copies left in circulation, acquiring it would have been a herculean task. 

Acknowledging the small scale of the cipher (encompassing one song rather than an entire book), the most probable approach would be to derive the message from numbers that correspond with letters in the key. The key, in my case, was the text itself. I tried this first...

O(1) N(2) E(3) M(4) O(5) R(6) N(7) I(8) N(9) G(10) I(11) W(12) A(13) L(14) K(15) E(16) D(17) T(18) O(19) T(20) H(21) E(22) E(23) M(24) E(25) R(26) A(27) L(28) D(29) M(30) E(31) A(32) D(33) 0(34) W(35) H(36) E(37) A(38) R(39) T(40) S(41) 0(42) T(43) E(44) N(45) D(46) E(47) R(48) A(49) N(50) D(51) H(52) E(53) A(54) V(55) Y(56) I(57) N(58) H(59) A(60) N(61) D(62) A(63) N(64) D(65) I(66) B(67) U(68) R(69) I(70) E(71) D(72) T(73) H(74) A(75) T(76) H(77) E(78) A(79) R(80) T(81) I(82) N(83) T(84)... 

Using this system, Dr. Skye's "lucky number" ciphertext, 84 23 16 57 49 72 63 1 58 48, resulted in plaintext TEEIADAONR, which makes about as much sense as a cottonee driving a taxicab. The closest matches online were "teeter" and "tea dinner" and, when reversed, "roadie." I like to think my childhood hero knew how to spell so this interpretation was quickly scrapped. 

The second technique yielded far more intelligible results. Here, I labeled each word of the song with a number...

One(1) morning(2) I(3) walked(4) to(5) the(6) emerald(7) meadow(8) Heart(9) so(10) tender(11) and(12) heavy(13) in(14) hand(15) and(16) I(17) buried(18) that(19) heart(20) in(21) the(22) emerald(23) meadow(24) ne’er(25) to(26) see(27) sunlight(28) again(29) but(30) from(31) the(32) soil(33) from(34) the(35) gloom(36) from(37) the(38) tomb(39) a(40) sunflower(41) grew(42) and(43) adamant(44) in(45) its(46) course(47) reached(48) high(49) to(50) follow(51) the(52) sun(53) across(54) the(55) sky(56) then(57) o’er(58) my(59) face(60) the(61) light(62) did(63) sweep(64) and(65) from(66) my(67) eye(68) such(69) sweet(70) streams(71) seeped(72) thus(73) I’ll(74) adore(75) you(76) brilliant(77) sun(78) until(79) in(80) the(82) meadow(82) I(83) die(84) 

Auspiciously enough, "The Emerald Meadow" contains exactly 84 words (the largest value in the ciphertext). Decrypted, the plaintext read, "die eye and then high seeped did one o'er reached." These words had one fairly close match within "Figments in the Firmament," by Sinnoh poet Wallace Killsworth (no relation to the Sootopolis gym leader). However, the poem was not written until 30 years after Dr. Skye's letter. Somewhat (very) intimidatingly, the plaintext, composed of 10 words, was rearrangeable into 1,023 combinations. Thank Arceus computers have taken over most of our tedious data sorting. I would have been devastated by the prospect of diagramming and performing comprehensive searches on each combo. This horror would have only been exacerbated by the realization that it was all a waste. 

Ultimately, taking the first letter of each word in the original permutation generated the message DEATHSDOOR. When I spoke these words, it was as if some grim incantation had seeped from my shuddering breath to creep and curl in the darkness of my chamber. I closed my eyes and a dread curiosity settled in my breast. When I opened them, I almost shat myself. 

After thirteen years, Baron's glow-in-the-dark gaze really shouldn't surprise me. He has the most gorgeous bioluminescent eye-rings (a rare phenomenon in mammalian pokemon). However, he also has the most unholy sense of timing when it comes to glaring ominously from under the bed. What kind of sadistic ass waits until 3:30 in the morning, when you're decrypting a dead person's morbid messages in a 400 year old mansion? I know Baron's staring comes from a place of love and watchog instinct. Still, it would be gentler on my cardiovascular health if he didn't find the most inopportune moments to look like the offspring of a gengar and a traffic light. 

Now, I hope to shed some light on Julianne's secret message. It's unlikely they were referencing the end of their own lives, for neither were ill that year. In fact, they both lived for at least another three decades. However, I cannot disregard the possibility that this was either a warning or a call for help. Professor Cypress was tremendously wealthy and some of his research contributed to Unovan government projects. It isn't impossible that someone would threaten him, either for his riches or his political involvement. 

Julianne was high profile for both her great accomplishments and great unorthodoxy. Though lacking in league aspirations, she was very competent battler and revenge killings for pokemon battles are one of the leading causes of homicide. In high stakes battles, both pride and vast monetary sums may be at risk. A few months ago, one man was arrested in Vermillion city for betting his own daughter's virginity. 

Dr. Skye also had some contested opinions on pokemon sentience. While many treat their pokemon with utmost respect and love, there are plenty of exceptions. Pokemon abuse is a crime, but the definition of said crime is standardized across species. This means trainers have the same expectations for a pokemon like basculin as one like conkeldurr. Humans dine on basculin regularly and even a trained one is essentially a food-motivated pet. Conkeldurr, on the other hand, are probably several times older and more intelligent than most of their trainers. Treating a creature like this the way you would a dim-witted beast is both disrespectful and psychologically damaging. You'd think the whole fiasco with Team Plasma would’ve enlightened Unova on the issue. 

Julianne detested the meager legal protections in place for pokemon like this, and her neurology and pokelinguistics research made a strong case for intelligence in previously unexamined areas. Pokemon activists have disappeared before. Perhaps even more controversial was her possession of an un-dampened chandelure and attempts to establish diplomacy with species regarded as enemies of humanity. At one point, there was even a violent protest in Virbank City regarding relations with a nearby litwick colony. Overwhelming Julianne's formidable team would be a challenge, but it's easy to imagine her under attack. Thus, I cannot out-rule the "Death's Door" message as either an SOS from Dr. Skye or a warning to Professor Cypress. 

The phrase might also be a reference to the spirit world. Foremost, Dr. Skye was a spiritual physicist. In fact, it can be argued that she was the first real spiritual physicist. It's not unheard of for pokemon like dusknoir, drifblim, and yes, chandelure, to create temporary ambiguity between the physical and spiritual realms. At these moments, matter can cross the barriers freely and exist in what Julianne calls an Ambiguous State. This persists until it returns to its original realm. In layman's terms, this is referred to as portalling. 

Death's Door could signify that she was performing private material ambiguity experiments. This is both extremely dangerous and extremely likely to cause outrage. The older generation and religiously fanatical insist that meddling in the spiritual realm is blasphemous. It's understandable why Dr. Skye would work clandestinely in the early experimental stages. 

On a more literal note, perhaps death's door is a reference to an actual location. Maybe Dr. Skye was arranging a rendezvous. My initial guess was Celestial Tower, a place she frequented to meditate and converse with the resident litwick (by far the least hostile in the region). Eventually, she would even lay her unfezant to rest within those sacred walls.

My second guess entails a much stranger narrative. Beneath the water of Undella bay, The Abyssal Ruins stand stately and grave. It is believed that the center of these ruins was the tomb of an ancient Unovan king. The royal ciphers on its pillars were only recently photographed. Though the exact statistic is unknown, dozens of divers have perished there, slain by torrents of water that damaged equipment and flung them against stone. Now, it is illegal to venture there without advanced dive-training and a permit. 

Death's Door being The Abyssal Ruins would explain Julianne's discussion of the Undella bay diving trip. It would also explain her mention of Professor Cypress' spelunking experience. The issue is understanding what in Zekrom's name she would want with the ruins? Dr. Skye had diverse interests, but she wasn't invested in archeology nearly enough to risk life and limb. It's said that jellicent once populated the tomb, but those reports are centuries old and no life has been documented there since; not really a hotspot for biological field research. A few nut-jobs think Kyogre takes his naps there. Every few months they get drunk, go out on a yacht and are fined for dumping trash in the bay (gifts for the sea god). I can't see Julianne associating with that lot. Thus, the query remains. What could be so remarkable about The Abyssal Ruins that she would endanger, not only her own life, but invite her 66 year old friend to do so as well? 

My final theory is that Death's Door is a code word for which I have absolutely no context. It was a concept familiar to Julianne, Lorenzo, and whoever else they chose to involve, exclusively. In that case, I'm screwed. Whatever the explanation, I feel electrified, as if a thousand joltik were crawling beneath my skin...damn, that sounded disgusting. Julianne V. Skye had something to hide, and I will tear the veil of history if I must to know.


	6. May 17th, 15:19, Ponderings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.

May 17th, 15:19, Travel Log of Aidan Rode,  
Today, I found out that one of the Cypress kids has a galvantula. I also found out that I should never train an electric type or my fluffy snowflake sweater will become a staticky torture device. Why the arachnid decided to lay webs in a doorway is beyond me. Either they don't care that someone's bound to walk through their work or they just like fucking with people. 

The glycine and alanine rich galvantula silk is also terrifyingly robust. I refused to let Clarisse cut the webbing with her bladed hands lest she electrocute herself. Instead, I hung there, shouting my lungs out, until Maria arrived with rubber gloves and shears. At least the silk was just electrified and not poisoned like that of ariados. Either way, I want to find the little shit that released the spider near my room, drown them in silly-string, and tase them...we're going to pretend that was hyperbole so I don't sound like a psychopath. 

Regarding Death's Door (it's still surreal to consider), I've elected to pursue the Abyssal Ruins angle first. It is by far the most cohesive theory. This course entails discerning if and when Dr. Skye and/or Professor Cypress travelled to Undella Bay and what they meant to do there. Consulting Maria (as soon as the paralytic spasms wore off), I learned that Professor Cypress spent a year and a half in Alola following the second biopsychology conference at his estate. According to my rough and incomplete (but still fantastic) timeline of Julianne's life, she stayed from July 14th to September 17th of that year in Undella town writing her first opera; The Masquerade. From this, I can conclude that Lorenzo declined her invitation. If she truly did intend to dive The Abyssal Ruins, his stance was probably the only sane choice. 

The question remains; just how insane was Julianne? Deep sea diving and cave diving are two of the most dangerous varieties of exploration. This expedition would combine them with the fierce, unpredictable waters of a known deathtrap. So, did she actually attempt to investigate the ruins sans her more experienced dive buddy? Granted, she would have been accompanied by her eelektross, Rukka. 

Whether or not she visited The Abyssal Ruins, I can't say, but I do have strong evidence to suggest she dived somewhere. Perhaps no one saved Dr. Skye's grocery lists, but they did save her receipts! I called Alomomola Scuba Shoppe in Undella Town and spoke to the owner, Matt Quiaa. His sister was enamored of Julianne's work. When Dr. Skye rented gear from their father, he kept the receipt to show his dear daughter (sweet but strange...then again, who am I to talk). 

Matt's father, Kato, is both depressingly and impressively ancient (at the, perhaps overripe, age of 99) and his memory is imperfect. However, Matt tells me that he gave Scuba lessons to Dr. Skye while she was in town. Apparently, he would also be willing to oblige me in an interview should I ever visit the shore. 

Considering he's the best lead I have (and swiftly approaching his expiry date), that's exactly what I'll do. As an added bonus, my family will be thrilled. Mother's been pestering me to take a vacation from the "murder mystery mania" that's been "burrowing into my brain like parasect spores." As far as she knows, I'm off to the seashore for some good old fashioned fun. Hopefully, she won't send my brother after me for some unsolicited bonding time. 

Arceus knows Baron is going to be ecstatic. He's normally quite a solemn and cautious pokemon, but the beach transforms him into another creature entirely. He bounces so delightedly in the sand and surf. As a patrat, he harbored the most ridiculous habit of charging the waves, getting knocked flat, and floating passively away with the current. Clarisse and I chased him frantically, terrified that he'd drown or be dragged off into the blue. Yet, however many times we rescued him, he'd repeat the anxiety-inducing process again and again. Now that he weighs more than 13kg, I'm finally content to relax and let him play. 

I also look forward to not staying in the absolute dingiest motel in Undella Town (I cannot begin to describe the horror that is watching live venipede emerge from a ceiling whilst stuck on the toilet). Instead, I'll sleep in style, because someone's getting paid at last! However, the compensation pales in comparison to the overwhelming pride and enthusiasm I have for the work. The Unovan Department of Safety accepted my NSE detection research and Scientific Unova even plans to publish an article! 

The new NSEmeters I designed will detect negative spiritual energy with more sensitivity and reliability than anything besides an actual ghost type pokemon. The only hitch is the rarity of the shiny stones involved in their calibration. Thanks to this research, normal people, without access to spiritually sensitive pokemon, will be able to anticipate the approach of dangerous energies. Lives can be saved on shipping lanes populated by jellicent, archeological sites hosting confragrius, and trails where groups of litwick stalk travelers. Once the technology is exported, Alolan beaches can secure themselves against predatory palossand hiding amongst the dunes. Especially aggressive gourgeist haunting the alleyways of Kalos and Galar can be monitored and avoided. To me, ghosts are the most fascinating of pokemon. Many are simply mischievous or even benevolent. Still, powerful, negative spirits can be amongst the most hostile and deadly creatures in existence. 

Chandelure, for example, terrorized humanity for thousands of years. Unless we had another powerful ghost or dark type on our side, we were helpless in the face of their predation. Between the ghost’s special attack and their lethal eight meter event horizon, the only choice when facing them was to flee and pray we could either outrun them or last long enough for backup to arrive. However, they often came silently in the night, unexpected and unavoidable. Entire villages were caught unaware and slain. Urbanization made it more difficult, but remote towns still faced the risk of an attack, and the resulting mass murder. Dr. Skye changed that. 

With the help of Keros, she was the first to successfully engage standardized, region-wide protocols for detecting and dealing with chandelure. Now that my work is finally reaching fruition, I feel the warmth of belonging to a legacy; I expand and fill and polish the framework laid by the woman, who, without even knowing I existed, became my mentor; my passion; my inspiration and aspiration combined. I know her work, I continue her work, and I wish I could have known her. With the exception of my pokemon, I think Julianne’s the closest thing I ever had to a best friend. Arceus dammit, is that wrong? For a dead person, a dead person I’ve never even met to be my best friend? 

Shit, I’m back here again. A distracted sap; off topic, getting teary eyed over what's supposed to be a professional travel log. Then again, it rather lost its professionalism when I referenced Reshiram’s balls last night. Does Reshiram even have balls? Perhaps that N fellow knows (though I rather doubt I’ll ever get the chance to converse with him). 

Oh, Clarisse thinks I’m in need of comforting now. Thank goodness she’s so mindful of her claws. I’m sure she’d be mortified to accidentally decapitate me. At moments like this, while she clicks and croons and holds me close, I wonder how I’m perceived by the leavanny. Sometimes I’m struck by the impression that she views Vivi, Baron, and I as overgrown, deformed sewaddle; swadloon if we’re being generous. Leavanny, whether male or female, crave parenthood. After raising her, it seems Clarisse is determined to reverse the roles. Oddly enough, I don’t mind. Perhaps she’s protective and fussy, but she does something that many human beings are too self centered and impatient to manage. She listens. For that, I’m grateful. 

I wonder if Sofia felt that way about Julianne. Dr. Skye had many students, but none were quite so beloved; so intimately involved in her life. Julianne never did have children, and, after surveying photographs and journals, I can’t help but ponder if the Johto battle prodigy was something of a daughter to her. During those months by Undella bay, Julianne, her brother, and eleven year old Sofia stayed in a modest beach house together. Dr. Skye was their coach. Supposedly, locals and vacationers would flock to the beaches and arenas to watch the child's exotic pokemon train. I’ve heard marvelous things about her arcanine. 

Would Sofia perhaps be willing to speak to me? She’s quite famous nowadays and probably receives more fan-mail than I have vullaby feathers in my laundry. Still, it’s well worth attempting to contact her. She likely has greater insight into Julianne’s past than anyone alive. Sofia might have been eleven then, but it’s possible she could recount the events that took place by Undella Bay. After a brief stop home in Floccesy, I’ll be off the seashore, and I’ll be sure to call her on the way.


	7. May 18th, 19:11, Correspondence with Sofia Mori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor

May 18th, 19:11, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
Today, I received the distinct privilege of spending 10 hours on the bus. Hurrah. I may have a shiny new government stipend but I am not paying 39,000 pokedollars for plane tickets where they feed me stale crackers and charge another 3,000 for a bag. Of course, I generally regret such decisions 15 minutes after boarding the bus. There's nothing quite like a road trip with two dozen strangers united in their mutual desire to be somewhere (anywhere) else. On the bright side, I usually buy a pair of tickets so that the seat next to me is occupied by Clarisse and not some odious, odorous, obnoxious monster who picks their toes or worse, decides our adjacency is grounds for friendship. The worst thing Clarisse can inflict on me is a bonnet. Bus-knitting is her sport. Moving vehicles provide a challenge. 

Vivi, on the other hand, prefers to sit on my lap and screech at small, tasty wild pokemon she sees out the window. This makes us very popular, as one might expect. So popular, in fact, that the people behind us throw trash at me for my darling vullaby to almost choke on. Baron stays in his poke ball. When your child has motion sickness on the bus, you get sympathy and one of those little plastic barf bags. When your pokemon has motion sickness on the bus, you get a 2,000 pokedollar fine. Therefore, Baron does not ride the bus. 

The reason I'm bothering to write about this thrilling adventure (besides my interest in venting about it) is that Sofia Mori miraculously returned my message. What else could I do for 10 hours but read it a hundred times and watch Clarisse knit socks for strangers? Here is a record of our correspondence...

To the honorable Sofia Mori,  
Congratulations on the success of your recent Johto Battle Academy graduates. The aid of a great mentor can make all the difference. My motive for contacting you actually involves your own teacher; Dr. Julianne Skye. Though I was never privileged to know her in person, she is nonetheless the reason I am the man who writes to you today. Her genius, diligence, curiosity, and that tremendous, ineffable spirit have dwelled within my mind and heart since childhood. 

For so long I sought to follow her academically. However, during the past three years, I have embarked on a journey of the more personal variety. I seek to understand Juliane Skye as a human being and, if possible, discern her fate. Let me be clear, I am not writing to you in an effort to infringe upon the privacy of your relationship or incite a media storm. That would be incredibly insensitive to both you and your mentor. This investigation exists for the sake of historical exploration and my desire to connect with someone whom I admire more than anyone. From what I've read, I know that she loved you and I believe you loved her. Thus, I can think of no one more suitable to speak on Dr. Skye. 

I pray this does not offend you, but I have studied a letter from your teacher to Professor Lorenzo Cypress. Its contents led me to the decryption of a book cipher. In pursuit of the mysterious decrypted phrase, I find myself headed to The Undella Bay area, where you trained during the summer 61 years ago. In order to progress, I must document and comprehend this portion of Dr. Skye's life, which she shared with you. 

Therefore, I would be extremely grateful if you were willing to speak or write to me on your experiences together. If the topics of your Undella Bay trip and her disappearance are too specific and uncomfortable, I wouldn't mind a more generic conversation. Julianne Skye is a central figure in my life and to speak to anyone she considered a true friend would be an honor. If you would like, I could also send you both the letter to Professor Cypress and the decrypted message. Thank you and best of luck in all of your endeavors. 

Sincerely,  
Aidan Rode

To Aidan Rode,  
I'm not gonna lie, thinking about Julianne is wonderful and painful at the same time. She made me a great pokemon trainer and was a great friend. The strength, wisdom, and kickass wit she had affects me even now that I'm an old fart. She was my teacher and I think, indirectly, she might be yours too. I can tell you've read her work. Your writing has some of her style. Your manners are better though. Julie sure as anything wouldn't call me "the honorable Sofia Mori" unless she was trying to be ironic. 

I'm happy there's someone interested in her life. Once we got famous (or occasionally infamous, in her case) not many wanted to speak to us as actual people. They all asked the same boring, superficial questions. You're pretty refreshing. 

Best of luck trying to understand Julie. I loved that woman as my mother, sister, best friend, whatever she was. At the same time, I doubt any of us really understood her, not even Johnny and I. We understood things about her; things she did, things she was interested in, habits she had. There was always something though; stuff we knew existed, but couldn't quite put our finger on. At moments, we thought we might not want to. The one who got closest was probably Keros. Feliks next. I think Julie would have died for any one of her pokemon but that chandelure was her soulmate. I guess that was sort of a pun.

Anyway, I've decided I want to help you. Maybe it'll help me too. None of us really got closure. Her brother was seriously messed up afterwards. I wonder if he blamed himself; thought he could have done something, kept better tabs on her. I don't know what to think exactly. Julie was good at what she did but the stuff she did was sometimes dangerous. I'm almost positive she would never have committed suicide for the sake of killing herself. Gone on a crazy suicidal mission for science? Yeah, she might have done that. And not told anyone. Julie was in her 70s. Everyone's luck runs out eventually and she probably used it up doing all that insane shit before. 

Part of me doesn't want to believe she's dead. I know she was human. I watched her do stupid stuff like forget to refill the toilet paper, break a window with a firecracker, even wear her pants inside-out in front of the fucking Elite Four. Still, she felt so invincible. Julie was tough and definitely the smartest person I knew; street smarts, book smarts, just smart. She did impossible things all the time. I just didn't imagine it was possible for her to fail or die. 

The alternative is almost worse though. If she's alive, that means she abandoned us. Julie would have killed for Johnny and I. She would have given just about anything for us. Her choosing to leave doesn't make sense unless I really didn't know her at all. She did become kind of insular in her 60s, but it seems wrong. 

Sorry I ranted. There's been no one to talk about this since Johnny passed. I guess that's the catch when it comes to having older friends. They all die way too soon. Or disappear. Who knows. I hope you find what you're looking for at some point. If you still want to talk about Undella Town after this emotional essay, give me a call at this number: 233-769-4045. We'll do a pokegear interview. Take care.  
\- The honorable Sofia Mori (I like that a lot). 

After reading Sofia's message, I'm torn between solemnity and excitement. Her letter was far more personal than expected and I fear exposing old wounds in my investigation. She placed enormous trust in me. I'm not certain what Sofia saw in my comparatively formal words, but her response was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. I am resolved, not only to accomplish my task, but to help Sofia gain the closure of which she has been so long deprived.


	8. May 19th, 24:10, Floccesy Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.

May 19th, 24:10, Travel log of Aidan Rode  


Home can feel quite alien at times. Yes, Floccesy Town retains all of its familiarity. Pidoves are preening on the rooftops, kids are chasing each other through the pokemart aisles, and my mother’s been using the same damn lemongrass-begonia air freshener for the past 25 years. Everything’s here. Perhaps it’s me who has changed. 

My pokemon certainly have. I caught Clarisse and Baron on route 20 and, in those days, every stroll through the grass was a high-stakes adventure. Behind each rock and tree and overturned trash can was a potentially dangerous ambush. Purrloin still attempt to prey on Vivi, but quickly realize they are outmatched. The patrat, sewaddle, and pidove know better than to attack anymore. My watchog and leavanny are quite the imposing pair. There’s also the fact that my vullaby would very much like to eat the wild patrat she encounters. I try to discourage this behavior around Baron. He understands that Vivi is a predator the same way I recognize my uncle’s seismitoad is a predator. Nevertheless, I’d be disturbed watching that seismitoad swallow the neighbors (even the awful one who got drunk and pissed on my bicycle). 

I admit, it would have been much more efficient to head directly to Undella Town and, tomorrow, I’ll have to spend the entire day in transit again. However, I would have been miserable without beach-appropriate clothing. Sand-filled socks are only slightly less unpleasant than waterlogged ones. Also, if I hadn’t returned to pack my warm-weather attire, Clarisse might have made me wear a leaf speedo. I shudder at the thought. 

Anyway, mum’s happy I’m back. She’s attempting to feed me my weight in fudge cookies, despite withholding them for almost my entire childhood. It’s amazing how much leaving someone alone can make them like you. However, absence did not enhance my fondness for Luca. Just because I haven’t seen my brother in a couple of months doesn’t mean I’m eager for a family reunion. Does that make me a bad sibling? Perhaps. I doubtlessly love Luca, but the man’s transformed into an utter maniac (though he probably harbors similar sentiments towards me). 

As kids, we bonded over our shared love of pokemon but something shifted within my brother as he aged. Psychiatrists in Sinnoh call it Battle Fever. Some people like to battle, some people live to battle, and Luca is basically a primeape with a trainer license. He treats the unspoken “eye contact rule” as an ultimatum, going out of his way to harass travelers and wild pokemon who want as much to do with him as the business end of a beedrill. This belligerence astounds me. Luca should be aware by now that I cannot compete with his team, nor do I wish to. The most Clarisse, Baron, and Vivi accomplish, battle-wise, is defending us from aggressive wild pokemon and beating low-mid level trainers for extra funds. The competitive circuit is not our mission. Yet, he infuriatingly insists on pummeling us every time I return home. If Luca's druddigon got a good grip on Baron those jaws would crush his spinal cord! 

Julianne respected the personalities and the desires of pokemon. A section of her journal written while coaching her brother reads- 

“His petilil lacks the demeanor for battle. If they manage to acquire a sun stone, perhaps coordination would prove a better fit? Lilligant generally excel in that field. Regardless, if Johnny seeks her happiness, he will not force her to fight. Some of my teammates adore battle and are so terrifyingly fervent about it that I must insist on restraint, lest they devour, dismember, or incinerate their opponents. Allegra is different. My maractus has a low pain threshold and succumbs to crippling guilt when she so much as jostles someone on the sidewalk. She is trained in defensive tactics but I would never dream of involving her in the sport. It would be cruel.” 

If Luca could muster this understanding and respect, maybe we could resolve our differences. Instead, he allows a survival of the fittest mentality to thrive even in our own home. Since day one, his liepard has been itching to eat Clarisse and Baron. Now that they’ve evolved and stand firmly together, the cat would be hard pressed to make a meal of them. Vivi, however, is comparatively weak and not well endowed in when it comes to intuitive self-preservation. Mum and Luca call me paranoid but I lock the doors and windows to my room when we sleep here. I would not put it past the liepard to stage an attack in our slumber. Arceus, that’s pathetic; barricading my own room against my brother’s pokemon. 

Ugh, speaking of rooms, I wish the flowers outside would get one (as far away from my sinuses as possible). I need allergy meds immediately or I will drown in histamine. However invaluable its purpose, the immune system can be a self-destructive lunatic sometimes. There’s this viral video where a joltik accidentally wakes up a hydreigon and gets vaporized by a hyper beam. Their surroundings are destroyed; a smoking crater, all because a mighty dragon was startled by a 15-ounce fluffy spider. My immune system is like that except with IgE and plant sperm. 

I’m not certain as to why I took the time to put this nonsense in my travel log. Complaining about Luca and my Arceus damned allergies won’t help me study Dr. Skye. I suppose it's comparable to the situation presented in Sofia's letter (though not quite as dramatic). Who else am I to talk to on these matters besides my pokemon, my travel log, and the ghost of Dr. Skye (if she is, in fact, dead)? Sometimes I envy the relationship she had with John. I wish I could have had such a brother; someone who behaved like an actual human being instead of a battle-crazed robot. I wish I could look him in the eye without issuing a stupid challenge. I wish I could be certain that he doesn't see us all as stepping stones to his glory in the league. I wish he would at least reprimand his pokemon for trying to kill and consume creatures that I consider family; creatures that probably know more about me than he does at this point. 

It's getting late and I've had an exhausting day. If I'm to endure more grueling hours on the bus tomorrow morning, I can't afford to fret all night. Perhaps I'll peruse some of Dr. Skye's old field notes before bed. As exciting as her research can be, Julianne's voice is so often soothing to me. Besides, it's been a while since I regarded her theories on spiritual fusion in beldum, metang, and metagross.


	9. Dr. Skye's notes- Metang Evolution and Polyspiritualism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.  
> *In the pokemon world it is common knowledge that ghosts and spiritual forces exist. How would that affect biology? This chapter has some fun with that.

I acknowledge this to be an objectively perilous course of action. Metagross is magnificent; powerful, massive, robust, and possessed of supreme intelligence. Even sedated, they are an awesome creature. Milo is wary of our proximity but I trust my team to keep the pokemon subdued. Even if our subject should regain consciousness, Rukka's paralysis will provide time to put distance between us. If the situation goes truly awry, the ghost, fire, and dark type abilities of Keros and Feliks will more than suffice to take them down. 

Admittedly, I feel somewhat conflicted regarding the circumstances of this study. Having observed the pair of metang for two weeks, fondness was inevitable. To ambush them in the wake of their victory, precisely at the moment of evolution, was perhaps cruel of me. However, it was necessary. Anabel's metagross supplied valuable insight, but the information I require demands a freshly evolved specimen. 

The neurological and spiritual organization of the beldum family is exceptional. As beldum and metang evolve, their nervous systems and spirits converge and reorient themselves. The result is the formation of an organism with multiple, interconnected brains and souls. Polyspiritualization is rare but not completely unique. In the case of zweilous, duosion, and dodrio (as well as neurodivergent hydreigon and doduo) one body houses multiple distinct entities. 

Each receives afferent input from the peripheral nervous system and can cooperatively operate efferent pathways. This is somewhat compartmentalized. For example, redundant pathways exist for GnRH secretion and extensor brevis contraction. Any or all of the brains can influence these events. However, something like hippocampal activity in brain 1 or salivation on head 1 is the realm of that system exclusively. 

In addition, if cerebral death were to occur in one dodrio system, the organism itself might survive. It has been observed that accelerated apoptotic activity removes the "dead head" and post-maturation synaptic pruning clears remnants of the failed system from the PNS. According to ghost type witnesses, the associated soul also becomes unbound from its anchor upon cerebral death. From a distance, these dodrio are sometimes mistaken for especially large doduo.

In zweilous and duosion, the elimination of one entity is normal. The weakest soul and brain are destroyed and consumed by the other in the process of evolution. In hydreigon, despite having three heads, only one is complex enough to assume command. Many zweilous trainers punish their pokemon for the instinctual hostility between heads. If they knew the fate that awaited the loser, perhaps they would be more understanding. 

The beldum family is a different matter entirely. In their evolution, separate entities connect, neurologically, psychologically, and spiritually. Each brain is capable of individual and collective thought. The compartmentalization of their systems is dynamic. This ranges from domination by one system, to synchronous independent patterns, to complete unity. The combinations are unfathomably diverse. 

In addition, unlike dodrio and zweilous, metang and metagross would not survive the death of any one of their brains. Their souls, though distinct, are bound by the same pooled lifeforce. Polyspiritual organisms contain more spiritual mass than most living things (with the exception of ghost types and some legendaries). However, despite the fact that the net mass of zweilous is twice that of the average organism, their souls are technically not bound to the same anchor and their lifeforce is loosely associated. Metagross has four times the average spiritual mass bound to the same anchor. Thus, they are both four creatures and one creature simultaneously. 

No other organism can boast a comparable connection except metang and Kyurem (in absofusion with Zekrom or Reshiram). Though poorly understood, black and white Kyurem are believed to be highly unstable and the absofused state is ultimately temporary. 

I seek to determine how the metagross connection is initiated and what circumstances are required for success. Part of the explanation might lie in beldum's almost obscene neuroplasticity (a trait shared by many species of psychic pokemon). Moreover, unlike the growth of alakazam's CNS, the beldum family can affect conscious changes to their own nervous structures. Only the elgyem and solosis families possess more dexterity in this area. Whether or not this is feasible for psychic type legendaries such as Deoxys or The Sinnoh Lake Trio is unknown. 

Based on my previous studies, it also appears that neuroplasticity is positively correlated with spiritual receptivity. Spirits that are receptive to one another are more likely to interact in complex ways. The neuroplasticity argument applies only to majority physical entities. Ghosts, which are majority spiritual entities, are unaffected. Their receptivity is mostly reliant on choice and compatible energy states. 

Of course, this concept is not homogenous as there are many varieties of spiritual interaction. In litwick colonies, for example, members will occasionally share lifeforce temporarily. This sharing enables a phenomenon similar to that which takes place in the pooled lifeforce of metang and metagross. However, as majority spiritual entities, the implications are even more profound. Cognition and emotion in ghosts takes place, not within a physical tissue, but within their spiritual mass. Therefore, litwick who share are privy to the thoughts and emotions of their partners. 

In living systems, there is an intricate and important relationship between bioelectrical organization and spiritual organization. Bioelectricity is the closest the physical realm ever comes to interacting with the spiritual realm. This is why our own bodies and psychic type abilities are so affected by spiritual activity. It's also part of the reason why my pokegear stops working when Keros is moody. 

Additionally, when an organism becomes a ghost, their bioelectrical patterns are transferred to a spiritual imprint. This describes the means by which many retain characteristics and memories of their lives after death (what Keros refers to as "the before"). Depending on the circumstances of someone's demise, this imprint may be altered or damaged. Yamask, for example, imprint almost impeccably, though their spiritual structure undergoes substantial rearrangement. Litwick experience intense trauma upon entry into the afterlife. The concentration of negative spiritual energy usually eradicates the imprint entirely, leaving them with no memories of their former identity. Upon the death of a metagross, it's likely that their imprint would be very strange indeed, as it would contain the material of four, interconnected brains. 

When our currently sedated metagross evolved, Keros was able to collect information on the processes that occurred. His report was astounding; spiritual fusion. Typically, lifeforce is not owned jointly. At any given moment, it can be associated with one soul and one physical anchor. The extreme high energy state of the litwick family's lifeforce enables them to bend this rule somewhat, creating anomalies while sharing. Still, the living cannot tolerate this and even ghosts only share temporarily. The only way to circumvent the issue indefinitely is for two souls to be so closely associated that to bind one is to bind the other. 

Until now, the prospect of spiritual fusion was theoretical to me. Witnessing this evolution event grounded it in reality. Apparently, fusion is quite expensive. The output, however, is even more stupendous. It implies the conversation of minuscule amounts of spiritual mass to spiritual energy. Energetically, this might be compared to nuclear fusion (the process that fuels stars) in the physical realm. 

Keros tells me that the evolving metang emitted something in the neighborhood of 8,000meS. How the pokemon managed to survive this baffles me. Keros also informed me that the four spirits were, for an instant, almost disengaged from their anchors in an imprinted form. It is my hypothesis that this pattern of spiritual energy served as a guide to the rapidly redeveloping synapses of the metagross' nervous system. The bioelectrical mirroring of the physical anchor would only serve to solidify the novel spiritual state. However, I cannot perform more detailed procedures to support my thoughts as of now. The entire process took only 8.6 seconds, so the window of observation was small. I also possess no instruments but my chandelure with which to conduct a study. 

I would be curious to further examine the unbound spirits of a metagross. Unfortunately, it's unlikely I will ever be granted this chance, as it would entail the death of the subject. The prolonged disruption of their spiritual state would wreak havoc on bioelectrical pathways, rendering homeostasis impossible. Even for this knowledge, I am adverse to the slaughter of innocent and intelligent pokemon. 

Nevertheless, I am occupied by many unresolved questions this evening. Most intriguing is my inquiry as to whether or not creatures unadapted to polyspiritualism can achieve this state. How similar do the participant's nervous systems have to be? What level of neuroplasticity is involved? Must their spiritual masses and energy classes be identical? Can these factors be manipulated? If so, how? Is physical nervous tissue even necessary or can permanent fusion occur between ghosts? 

I cannot help but feel lost in the face of such mysteries. Keros and I have many obstacles to overcome and such little time. At any moment, the opportunity for discovery may pass with me. Yet, my determination is undiminished. Today I am alive and we are not alone in our endeavor. Feliks, Gemma, Rukka, Milo, and Allegra stand beside us, offering their skills, strength, and devotion. I have made a promise as a scientist and partner. Therefore, to comprehend this, I will give of myself the entirety.


	10. May 21st, 01:22, The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor

May 21st, 01:22, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
I almost witnessed the death of 50 people today. In fact, I would have been among them. The roads here are narrow, skirting cliffs and ravines; a spectacular view. Apparently, the wild bouffalant deem it a romantic setting, seeing fit to court and compete for mates on the path. They didn't take kindly to the interruption of the bus. Without the intervention of some passengers' emboar, crustle, and stoutland we would have been shoved off the mountainside to our doom. 

Regardless of our state, the vehicle was obviously out of commission. After such brutality, the bus was rendered little more than a glorified metal tent, unlikely to ever drive again. Tomorrow, the team and I will hike the rest of the way to Undella Town. My team should be able to deter, if not defeat most of the threats we might face on this route, but it's still unwise to travel at night. For now, we've made camp at the back of the bus. If you ignore the snoring, adjust to the smell of gasoline, and remember not to touch the gum-wads under the seats, it's actually cozy. Baron also makes a decent pillow. 

These events stirred potent contemplations though. As I marveled at the great gashes on the vehicle's sides (from bouffalant horns) I couldn't help but dwell on Dr. Skye's metagross notes. She did mention the might of the pokemon in her writing but it wasn't so palpable from the security of my desk. The difference between reading about powerful pokemon and encountering one is like the dichotomy between dropping a match or launching a propane tank into a bonfire.

I can't fathom approaching a potentially aggressive creature of such raw strength and intelligence. There's a chance I'd piss, cry, vomit, or all three. The fact that Julianne stepped forth with any degree of confidence is almost frightening in and of itself. 

When you think about it, nearly all pokemon become a bit frightening. They're awesome (in the truest sense of the word). This is applicable even to many of the species we consider average or even weak in battle. A fuzzy little woobat could batter your brain into stupor with a confusion attack. Dozens die each year accidentally (or unspeakably stupidly) stepping on stunfisk. Mind you this is a creature so frequently made fun of there are websites and threads devoted entirely to stunfisk memes. Meanwhile, unwary pedestrians walking through mud puddles are being electrocuted. 

So where does humanity fit into this menagerie? We lack fangs, or claws, or venom. We can't breathe fire, fly at mach speeds, or excrete dream mist. Even with incredible technology, we still pray that Groudon doesn't feel like ripping a new fault line and run up the stairs in a panic before the foongus squatting in the cellar release toxic spores in our face. I had to visit the ER for that one...

Yet, somehow, these magnificent creatures have decided, not only to spare our lives, but to coexist with us, sometimes even befriend or obey us. I take for granted that Clarisse won't settle our arguments with a leaf blade up my ass. That doesn't mean she isn't fully capable of such.  
The entire humbling concept brings to mind a journal entry Dr. Skye wrote when she was 18...

"I wonder if my family might someday end me. Intimate friends and relations are the most likely suspects for murder after all. Though I doubt these dear pokemon would offer me lethal hostility, the possibility of an accident remains. With barely a thought, Gemma could trample me or gore me with her venomous horns. Rukka is so massive that one careless swing of his clawed hand would break my neck and a stray thunderbolt might contain 10,000amps. Keros could stop dampening for a centisecond and rend the soul from my body. 

Most of my pokemon have killed. Feliks, Gemma, and Rukka are predators, who toss and tear their prey. Last year, when we were attacked in the warehouse, Keros committed a veritable massacre. I watched 20 people fall limp and crumple to the floor as if asleep. If he desired, Keros could inflict such violence upon me and I would be powerless to resist. I suppose that's why I'm thought mad for associating with him. I may hold his pokeball but Keros holds my life every moment we are together. It is with immense gratitude that I recognize how so very gently he holds me."

...Some species on Julianne's team, scolipede, eelektross, and chandelure in particular, used to prey regularly on humans. At times, they still do and, unless you're a serious pokemon trainer, you can't do much about it. Taking that into consideration, it makes sense on a visceral level why so many are desperate to become successful trainers. It isn't just about power and glory. It's about security. It's about knowing that, when you're ambushed by some scrafty in the desert or a hyreigon lands in your driveway, you might not die. 

Perhaps that's why our species, instead of going extinct, dominated the earth. Strangely, the combination of our technology and some quality of the human psyche brings pokemon together and unleashes their potential. Humans and pokemon are strongest in unity. That's not to say the relationship is without imperfections and exceptions. Humans may not be able to learn hyper beam, but we're still excellent at fucking shit up. Nevertheless, here I am; head resting on Baron's flank, Vivi roosting in the crook of my elbow while Clarisse embraces us.  
And isn't that beautiful?


	11. May 21st, 22:31, Letters Exchanged Between Dr. Skye and Professor Cypress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor
> 
> *if there are any classical music nerds out there I left a few references in there for you. Parallels in the pokemon world.*

May 21st, 22:31, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
Arceus, I feel like a bum. Three more miles and we could have gotten a hotel room in Undella Town. Instead, we're spending another night in the wilderness, stuffed into a one person tent like a coconut in a skwovet's cheeks. Here's a tip for traveling pokemon trainers and backpackers; just because a tent claims to fit one person does not mean it fits one person comfortably. Maybe it fits one prepubescent child, but I'm beyond that age bracket (regardless of Luca's assertion otherwise). The dilemma is exacerbated by the inevitable desire of my pokemon to share the meager space. 

Luckily, we made camp close enough to Undella Town for decent pokegear reception. As such, I was able to receive phenomenal news. Maria discovered another pair of letters exchanged between Dr. Skye and Prof. Cypress. Moments ago, I finished reviewing the digital copies and I'm almost certain Julianne included another book cipher. Was this a normal occurrence then? Do I need to reread the postscripts of every documented correspondence, lest I miss out on secret messages?

Anyway, the letters posed some rather confusing points and an ambiguous tone overall. I can't quite tell if they're casual and trying to seem urgent or urgent and trying to seem casual. My notes correspond with numbers in the text...

Lorenzo,  
That you enjoyed The Sublime Apparition*1* elicits in me overwhelming felicity. The opera was both a trial and a pleasure to compose and you, my friend, are developing quite the musical ear. Your commentary on the act two contralto/clarinet/bassoon counterpoint*2* was insightful. Practicing theory? Additionally, if you ever find yourself listening to the third aria (The Hand of The Veil) with Feliks, watch their ears. The zoroark may sit motionless and stony-faced, but the turning and flicking of those lovely ears reveals their rapture at the arpeggiated coloratura passage. It’s simply adorable, though you’d best not tell them that. It pleases Feliks to be dignified and austere in public*3*, so your remark will be taken as an act of assholery. 

A while ago, I mentioned meeting with potential medical associates in the desert*4*. These arrangements have come to fruition and we’ve established a rendezvous in three weeks. Allegra will be elated. Those lands were the maractus’ beloved domain prior to joining our team and, after withstanding the frigid Unovan peaks, she deserves a respite. When sandstorms aren’t whipping up plumes of dust, the photosynthetic opportunity must be fantastic. 

Before I depart, however, I feel compelled to seek your aid in the procurement of some research*5*. Extensive neuroscientific reading has occupied me since The Sublime Apparition’s premiere. There are five crucial pieces of literature I have been unable to access. These are, “Nociception and Neuroplasticity in Manipulative Osteopathic Treatment” (Pelletier), "Bioelectric Gene and Reaction Networks; Computational Modeling of Genetic, Biochemical, and Bioelectrical Dynamics in Pattern Regulation” (Pietak), “Coupling Models Between Cell Activity and Arc Gene Transcription in a Transgenic Rattata Model of Alzheimer’s Disease” (Wang), and “Encoding and Decoding Cognitive Electrophysiological Pathways”(Holdgraf).*6*

Obtaining this information may be vital regarding my preparedness for the impending events. Under these circumstances, ignorance is not an option *7*. Thus, I implore you, in the spirit of friendship and academic solidarity *8*, to help me access these resources. Perhaps further affection and gratitude from me is not a dazzling incentive. After all, you have possessed these boons for many years already. I offer them again, nonetheless. I also offer a pizzelle recipe so divine it may as well be a transcendental experience. We both know firsthand the effectiveness of a well-placed saccharine bribe.*9*

I hope you’re still entertained by my soprano aria and artsong collection. Have you managed to work out the accompaniment on the second piece?*10* I’ve heard Kathryn Lee might add it to her program on the upcoming concert series. A day before her performance at UNU, I’ll be leading a masterclass on the Shossvan Cello Concerto *11*, so we’re likely to cross paths on campus. Rukka and Gemma adore her copperajah. With such a sturdy playmate, they can be unrestrainedly boisterous. Speaking of pokemon relations, are Ferris and Didi still romantically entangled?*12*Keep an eye out for Feliks and Gemma in the coming weeks. Depending on how my rendezvous goes, they may pay you a visit. Farewell for now. 

Sincerely,  
JVS 

P.S. Your lucky numbers are 3, 125, 48, 16, 164, 172, 31, and 23! 

Dear Julie,  
Of course I loved your opera. Your soul is manifest in that masterpiece, and I don’t doubt that you will be immortalized in Unovan music history*13*. I also don’t doubt that you were aching to leap into the pit and play the treble cello solo during the overture. Sofia tells me you were vibrating in your seat. 

My piano proficiency has grown significantly recently. Those fast double thirds in that Chouldon etude are starting to achieve some semblance of coherency. Apparently, you can teach an old stoutland new tricks. The second piece in your book also yielded a good bit of fun pedal work.

Ferris and Didi are still very much enamored of one another. Despite being unable to properly mate with his beau, my ferrothorn has never been so excited. The gifts our emolga has brought him over the years have formed a heap almost as heavy as their recipient. Didi is still technically a wild pokemon, but we have come to consider her an honorary member of this family. 

We consider you family as well. As such, I must express my concern. Julie, may I recommend you another doctor? I don’t trust the institution you intend to seek and, as both a scientist and a decrepit old man, I quite know my way around the healthcare profession. There are surely other options.*14* In the event that you refuse to reconsider this course, I will send you the literature requested. May knowledge protect you.*15* 

Sincerely,  
Lorenzo Cypress 

*1* Assuming this letter was written shortly after the premiere of “The Sublime Apparition”, Julianne was 55 and Lorenzo was 88. 

*2*I’m no music theory expert (keyboard studies regularly kick my ass), but this particular passage is now considered one of the most iconic examples of 3-part counterpoint in the modern canon. It also has one of the most fiendishly difficult clarinet runs since that countertenor-clarinet duet in “The Clemency of Rayquaza.” 

*3* Feliks was apparently sensitive regarding his perception by the public. Zoroark are an extremely intelligent species; logical, self-aware, and empathetic. Casting powerful illusions to defend their territories, their communities are so advanced that they might as well be called villages. Some individuals even take on a human disguise full-time and integrate themselves into our society. Feliks, capable of reading, writing, and speech (using his human illusion), desired acknowledgment of his intellect and individuality. Thus, in the presence of most people, he often exuded a certain refinement and severity. According to Julianne, this intensity waned in the company of other pokemon or his trusted few human companions. 

*4* Julianne frequented the Unovan desert in her 50s and 60s. She owned a small hut near route 4, claiming that the solitude and serenity enabled intense creative focus. However, I’ve never heard mention of these “medical associates.” 

*5* Dr. Skye and Prof. Cypress exchanged academic materials regularly. This isn’t an abnormal request coming from either direction.

*6*If I’m not mistaken, most of these documents are aimed at human medical neuroscience. Might she be running a comparative physiology study? The focus seems to be neuroplasticity, neurogenesis, and bioelectricity. Once again, I recall Dr. Skye’s metagross polyspiritualism notes. This makes sense as they were written within a few years of one another. Dr. Skye’s early research was centered on pokelinguistics and establishing the basis of spiritual physics. Her later years were consumed by this fascinating mixture of neuroscience and spiritual physiology. Unfortunately, the records of this later period are not so superbly organized. Many pieces are lost. 

*7* Is she referring to the rendezvous? The tone is rather serious; dire or at the very least important. 

*8* This is desperation; Julianne’s equivalent of begging on her knees. 

*9* Ah, the infamous sweet tooth strikes again. Dr. Skye had her cocoa and Prof. Cypress found his notorious sugary vice in cookies and pastries. I wonder if he’s the fellow who taught Maria to bake so well…

*10*Here’s the reference to Galarian Arias and Art Songs for Soprano. 

*11* This was one of Julianne’s signature pieces in performance, alongside the Dvelak Concerto, The Eliara Concerto, and the 6 Buko Suites. As a child I used to listen to a recording of her playing The Swanna before falling asleep. Sometimes I still do. I couldn’t slumber to the Shossvan Concerto though… the first movement sounds too much like satire and oppression. 

*12*They’re referring to Professor Cypress’ ferrothorn and the wild emolga living in the estate gardens. What an odd, but also oddly sweet romance. 

*13* He was right. 

*14* This makes little sense. As far as I know, Julianne wasn’t seeing any specialists besides her gynecologist. Here and there, she had a few follow-up visits for a fracture received in a training accident, but there are no records of major illness. So why are they discussing doctors? Are these the medical associates Julianne described? Why doesn’t Prof. Cypress trust them? Perhaps she suffered some affliction unrevealed to the public. Could this be why she kept returning to the desert; to meet these doctors in secret? 

*15* That settles it. Lorenzo believed Julianne was in danger. 

Great Giratina, Dr. Skye! First the sea then the sands, my sorry ass is being dragged all over Unova. I’ll have to add this desert matter to my list of inquiries to Sofia Mori. As soon as I check into the hotel tomorrow (and stop Vivi the voracious vullaby from sampling the expensive minifridge snacks) business begins. Here’s my to do list… A) Ask Maria to send me a copy of the second piece in that Galarian Songbook (I’m definitely missing something and I think it’s a cipher again). B) Read the scientific literature Julianne requested in her letter. C) Establish interview times for Sofia and The Scuba Shoppe owners and D) Shower for a small eternity…we all reek of sweat, dirt, and whatever the heck a bus crash smells like. Shit, I think Baron has some of that dried up gum from under the seats in his fur...


	12. May 22nd, 19:42, If I Could Adore You, aka Cerebral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor 
> 
> *The gene therapy case referenced in this text actually occurred in 1999. Scientific discovery is a noble and beautiful calling. However, let us not allow the thirst for progress to compromise the innocent and unknowing. Thorough research and documentation is a must when it comes to safety protocols.

May 22nd, 19:42, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
The Undella Bayview Hotel is absolute bliss. Yes, I sound like one of their brochures, but keep in mind the context. This is coming from a guy who spent the past two days on an unexpected camping trip in the aftermath of a bus accident. Lounging about, inhaling the scent of clean sheets, it occurs to me how much we take for granted. We feel so entitled to essentials and simple pleasures; a mattress, soap, water that doesn’t taste like iodine tablets and dirt. 

Baron’s stolen some of said sheets to make a nest in the corner. Vivi’s helping… or at least believes she’s helping. I question her decorating decisions. Eventually, I must reclaim my shorts and wallet from their architectural masterpiece. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me. 

The long overdue shower felt like rebirth; the miracle of new (freshly scrubbed) life, emerging from the steam. My team had differing opinions. Vivi was miffed. She puffed up like an angry little dandelion and even managed a solid nip with her beak. Afterwards, the vullaby’s demeanor suggested a degree of contrition. Good. It hurt like a bitch. Baron glared as I applied almost three bottles of shampoo to his fur (granted they were the teensy hotel portions). Clarisse, who somehow smells perpetually of citrus, grass, and sunshine (whatever that means), spent almost an hour in there. My ridiculous and wonderful leavanny was dancing in the shower. I think an arabesque was involved. She’s probably been watching ballet videos on my computer again. 

Enough of my luxurious hotel lifestyle. I now have an interview at the Scuba Shoppe tomorrow and a pokegear call scheduled for the 24th with Sofia. I also received a response from Maria. This woman is obviously the goddess of cookies and perfect timing. She deserves a shrine, overflowing with day planners and cookie dough. 

Her Majesty The CookieTime Goddess Maria sent me a digital copy of the entire Galarian soprano book. Hurrah for illegal sheet music! Come and get me copyright laws...if you dare. The second selection, “If I Might Adore You,” is a romantic number with a piano part so insanely difficult my fingers ache looking at it. Lorenzo Cypress might not have been a big-shot musician, but he was no middling amateur to attempt this. Below is a transcription of the lyrics…

Galarian Arias and Art Songs for Soprano, 5th Edition  
If I Could Adore You (Eb Major)- Elliot schelse 

If I could dance beside you upon a frigid night  
The only warmth in your embrace  
The moon and stars our only light  
I’d leave my cloak and gloves behind  
And relish winter’s sting sublime  
If it would make your cherished touch  
Burn ever sweeter for the rime 

And as with you I linger my voice begins to ache  
To sing those songs your grace excites  
Entire operas to your name  
That wit and wisdom I admire  
Invigorates my muse’s fire  
With every sacred word you speak  
Such fervent music you inspire 

If I could know the secret of the laughter in your smile  
I’d write a world to feed your mirth  
And fashion dreams to suit your style  
I’d serve as balm to ease your strife  
And flame to set your woes alight  
For strange and lovely joy it brings  
To simply bask amid your life 

So live and love and jubilate such that the sun seems plain  
And in the blackest bleakest storm  
We’ll sing and dance despite the rain  
And when descends that final night  
Upon our sorrow and delight  
The solace of a heart well spent  
Shall soothe the fading of the light 

Fantastic. More affair conspiracy fodder. The pair of scientists certainly sent each other a lot of love songs. More importantly, now that I know their book-cipher system, there will be no hours wasted on unreasonably massive datasets. Thus, I proceeded to number the lyrics...which there were quite a bit more of than last time. 

If(1) I(2) could(3) dance(4) beside(5) you(6) upon(7) a(8) frigid(9) night(10) The(11) only(12) warmth(13) in(14) your(15) embrace(16) The(17) moon(18) and(19) stars(20) our(21) only(22) light(23) I’d(24) leave(25) my(26) cloak(27) and(28) gloves(29) behind(30) And(31) relish(32) winter’s(33) sting(34) sublime(35) If(36) it(37) would(38) make(39) your(40) cherished(41) touch(42) Burn(43) ever(44) sweeter(45) for(46) the(47 rime(48) And(49) as(50) with(51) you(52) I(53) linger(54), my(55) voice(56) begins(57) to(58) ache(59)To(60) sing(61) those(62) songs(63) your(64) grace(65) excites(66) Entire(67) operas(68) to(69) your(70) name(71) That(72) wit(73) and(74) wisdom(75) I(76) admire(77) Invigorates(78) my(79) muse’s(80) fire(81) With(82) every(83) sacred(84) word(85) you(86) speak(87) Such(88) fervent(89) music(90) you(91) inspire(92) If(93) I(94) could(95) know(96) the(97) secret(98) of(99) the(100) laughter(101) in(102) your(103) smile(104) I’d(105) write(106) a(107) world(108) to(109) feed(110) your(111) mirth(112) And(113) fashion(114) dreams(115) to(116) suit(117) your(118) style(119) I’d(120) serve(121) as(122) balm(123) to(124) ease(125) your(126) strife(127) And(128) flame(129) to(130) set(131) your(132) woes(133) alight(134) For(135) strange(136) and(137) lovely(138) joy(139) it(140) brings(141) To(142) simply(143) bask(144) amid(145) your(146) life(147) So(148) live(149) and(150) love(151) and(152) jubilate(153) such(154) that(155) the(156) sun(157) seems(158) plain(159) And(160) in(161) the(162) blackest(163), bleakest(164) storm(165) We’ll(166) sing(167) and(168) dance(169) despite(170) the(171) rain(172) And(173) when(174) descends(175) that(176) final(177) night(178) Upon(179) our(180) sorrow(181) and(182) delight(184) The(185) solace(186) of(187) a(188) heart(189) well(190) spent(191) Shall(192) soothe(193) the(194) fading(195) of(196) the(197) light(198) 

Julianne’s lucky numbers (3, 125, 48, 16, 164, 172, 31, 23) yielded the results, “could ease rime embrace bleakest rain and light.” The first letter of each word produced the term CEREBRAL. It didn’t seem quite so ominous as death’s door, but it was apparently enough to rattle Professor Cypress. 

My initial thoughts were that it might be a reference to a scientific collaboration between Dr. Skye and Dr. Luis Bartolo; “Cerebrovascular Anatomy and Neural Stem Cell Proliferation in Alakazam.” This would align nicely with the theme of neurogenesis research, upon which Julianne was fixated. However, I see no motive for encoding that message, nor for Lorenzo’s concerned response. 

I then theorized that Julianne might have developed some manner of neurological disorder; cerebral cryptococcosis, cerebral cavernoma, cerebral glioma, the possibilities are endless. Though Julianne had many colleagues and friendly acquaintances, she had few real friends. She had no shortage of real enemies though. Personal affairs, especially vulnerabilities, were kept private. I wouldn’t put it past her to conceal an affliction from the public. I also wouldn’t discount the possibility that she might have intentionally kept this from her loved ones (John and Sofia) to prevent their anxiety. 

If the disorder in question were particularly rare or dangerous, perhaps she sought experimental treatment. This would justify Professor Cypress’ concerns. Some experimental medicines, especially off the books (the kind that schedule consultations in the middle of the desert) operate with sketchy protocols. 

For example, twenty years ago, an irresponsibly devised gene therapy study ended in tragedy. A boy afflicted with OTCD (ornithine transcarbamylase deficiency syndrome) was injected with an adenovirus shell containing copies of a functioning OTC gene. Supposedly, it would enable him to produce the desperately needed ammonia regulating enzymes. Instead, his body betrayed him, within a day declining to multiple organ failure and death. Inadequate medical protocols played a role in the demise of a 17 year old boy. 

Dr. Cypress had seen his own son develop a dangerous allergic reaction to an untested antibiotic. If not for the intervention of the hospital’s audino, Emilio Cypress might have perished. At this point, Julianne had been his dear friend for 33 years. Considering his experiences, he would doubtlessly seek to advise and protect her from similar situations. 

Even more disturbing is my final theory. The pokedex assigns the category “cerebral pokemon” to elgyem and beheeyem. Psychic abilities in pokemon are not uniform. A majority are highly specialized. Bruxish, for example, uses the organ protruding from it’s head to emit and receive bioelectromagnetic pulses. These can be used to detect the bioelectrical signals of other organisms and stun potential prey or predators. 

The cerebral pokemon, on the other hand, are dedicated to expertly manipulating the tissues and processes of the nervous system. They're also probably honest to Arcues extraterrestrials. Elgyem are peaceful, curious, and empathetic creatures. Since their appearance on earth, it's become something of a Unovan medical standard for neurosurgeons, psychiatrists, and neuropathologists to partner with them. In their kindness, elgyem have helped us deal with previously untouchable diseases. What's more, their sympathy and stringent morals stop them from inflicting more damage than a migraine or embarrassing broadcast. Supposedly, some Alolan diplomat pissed himself on TV. A nearby elgyem thought it considerate to telepathically inform everyone so the man might excuse himself to find dry pants...yeah, moving on. 

Beheeyem are another breed altogether. Immediately upon evolving, their range and power increases almost tenfold. Their psychic dexterity is also enhanced, allowing them to act with unmatched specificity and delicacy. The regrettable side effect is complete and utter violent psychopathy. The connections in their weird alien homologue to the ventromedial prefrontal cortex are warped during evolution. So, just like other psychopaths, they have serious remorse and empathy issues. 

Their curiosity doesn’t fade though, and they’re said to take tremendous pleasure in slowly rending the minds of their victims. Basically, it’s psychic vivisection. Other hobbies include hijacking brains to acquire nifty new meat-puppets. 

To make matters worse, Beheeyem are organized. They have a whole secret society operating in the desert. Alien conspiracy theorists think they have a network of “puppet spies” spread throughout the country. The Unovan Department of Defense insists that their territory be avoided, but annual casualties skyrocket anyway. When they first manifested on earth, a cult popped up hailing the arrival of our new alien overlords. Seventy walked off into the beheeyem’s domain. Two returned, both suffering amnesia and irreparable nervous damage. 

I’ve heard they started branching out into the Galarian countryside too...some headline about mass dubwool abductions? Regardless, I admit (to my utmost terror) that the involvement of beheeyem in Julianne’s “cerebral” message makes all too much sense. A) She was headed off into the desert with a load of neuroscience research. B) It was rather clandestine and Professor Cypress was none too pleased about it. C) It just seems like the type of lunatic, fascinating thing Julianne liked to investigate. I think dangerous pokemon held a special place in her heart. 

Then, there’s the alarming thought that theory two and theory three might be part of the same unfathomable shitshow. This is pure speculation, but what if the doctors offering treatment or data on this neurological disorder were actually beheeyem? On the other hand, why in the name of all that is holy would anyone engage them for medical help?

Yes, they’re powerful, skilled, and don’t care if your experiments aren’t on record. At the same time, your normal doctor probably won’t torture you to death and leave your hemorrage ridden corpse in the dust. 

And how would Julianne even convince such creatures to agree to a meeting, let alone a mutualistic relationship? They’re secretive, cruel, and unapologetically unsympathetic to our ailments. With Keros, Feliks, and Gemma being ghost, dark, and bug types respectively, she might have been able to threaten a few into cooperation. However, there are more than a few beheeyem in the Unovan desert. Also, I, personally, wouldn’t allow anyone I’d pissed off to meddle about in my vulnerable mind. 

With any luck, my interpretation is nothing but a spectacular error and her medical associates were just reclusive doctors in the wilderness. Then again, neither of us really believed in luck. Arceus, I hope we’re both wrong. If not, I wonder what she might have gleaned from her encounter with the pokemon. What would beheeyem be capable of that she couldn’t find in a thousand other places (all of which less likely to end in mind-control or death)? Also, if this did involve the cerebral pokemon, was it the only encounter? 

I can’t say for certain where this trail will lead. Perhaps Sofia can offer insight on both this and The Abyssal Ruins case. Dammit, this makes the diving danger look like dodgeball with marshmallows. Things have potentially become more complicated, and I’ll have to prioritize. First, we’ll work out the story of Undella Bay. Then...we’ll address whatever this fiasco might be. 

Knowing that her disappearance was almost 20 years later, at least I can be sure she survived the rendezvous...if it did, in fact, occur. Probably. Unless something went truly awry, I can’t see Julianne backing down. She was tenacious and, as much as she adored Lorenzo, that letter seemed too determined and desperate for compromise. 

It’s strange, realizing the person I’ve idolized since childhood might have made such dubious decisions. I suppose I’ve always known she was daring and unorthodox. It’s one of the reasons I was drawn to her. Both Julianne and her work were revolutionary, compelling, and, at times, almost frighteningly bizarre. She wasn’t a pure paragon of virtue. I doubt anyone truly is, but Dr. Skye never even pretended to believe it. She did love though. Of that, I have no doubt. 

Speaking of such, it seems Clarisse knitted Vivi another scarf. I’ll give the garment five days. Vullaby beaks and talons aren’t gentle on yarn...or anything really. Clarisse hardly minds though. She’ll spin and spin her silk, weaving together leaves and yarn and whatever else she can muster. Some of us are moody, loud, obsessive, dirty, so incredibly imperfect. Still, she loves us. That's another thing I’d be a fool to take for granted.


	13. May 23rd, 11:25, Double Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 23rd, 11:2, Travel log of Aidan Rode-   
We won a battle this morning! Well, a double battle...my pokemon didn’t do much (any) of the actual fighting. Nonetheless, our partner generously granted us our portion of the reward. It was both the easiest and the strangest battle my team has ever fought. I still don’t quite understand the circumstances of our involvement. 

Following the morning dose of reviving espresso, we went for a walk on the beach. Baron had been smelling sea salt since our arrival and I knew he longed to fling himself into the surf. I intended to locate a little spot on the shore to put down a towel (which I might have borrowed from the hotel) and review notes. Baron and Vivi would be allowed to romp under Clarisse's supervision. 

However, we hadn’t progressed far before coming across the scene of a confrontation. A ruckus of trainers were gathered; tracksuits, fingerless gloves, hair dye, we all know the type. I was impressed but also wary, as the group was accompanied by powerful pokemon; the likes of klinklang, serperior, and darmanitan. Those species don’t evolve without substantial experience and their trainers seemed rather riled. 

One girl was dressed in solid concert black. Perhaps I’d deem it classy if she weren’t sporting said attire on the beach. My initial thought was that she might be one of those Cynthia imitators, trying to seem dark and glamorous. I’ve heard rumors about the Sinnoh champion frequenting a villa nearby. A lot of ace trainers worship her, even in Unova. My own brother had an accident with blond hair dye last year…

Anyway, this trainer stood next to a massive eelektross; menacing, all sleek muscular lines and deadly fangs. I would have been intimidated but instead almost erupted into shocked laughter. The eelektross was swaying, bobbing its enormous toothy head while a tiny maractus bounced about exuberantly. Despite this display, the trainer was stoic. 

Another boy, dressed in so much neon you’d think he was impersonating a highlighter, raved about wanting a double battle alongside his brother. One of miss wears-black-at-the-beach’s pokemon wasn’t interested in fighting (I understand that) and highlighter-boy and his sibling were displeased. Somehow, this escalated into a mess of loud and confusing details that I can’t begin to sort out; some screaming about “inseparable battle bros” and the “honor of a fair fight?” After their pokemon beat the snot out of each other, these kids would get along swimmingly with Luca. Vivi found it entertaining (because of course she did). 

Suddenly, there was a pair of searing blue eyes sizing me up and, without warning or discussion, I heard, “he’s on my team. Let’s go.” By time those words made any sort of sense to me, the group had circled round us like the prelude to an arcane ritual. The eelektross trainer had volunteered (voluntold) me for her double battle. 

I couldn’t help but notice that highlighter-boy and his brother were being followed by a beartic and an archeops; not a pleasant realization. Clarisse is by far the strongest of us but to pit her against those creatures would have been suicidally moronic. Archeops is a rock and flying type. Beartic is an ice type. My poor leavanny would be squashed and frozen in seconds flat (pun definitely not intended). Baron wasn’t prepared for this match in the slightest, but at least our opponents weren’t his weaknesses embodied. 

I was banking on the fact that Baron might be small and swift enough to outmaneuver our adversaries, dealing sand attacks and confuse rays while our partner did the heavy hitting. Maybe they could paralyze the archeops before its speed became an issue? Either way, I had no intention of spending the next few days in a pokemon center, tending to contusions and broken bones. 

As it so happened, my strategizing was for naught. Upon asking the girl for an assessment of my plan, she simply replied, “stay out of the crossfire.” I thought that a tad bit rude until her eelektross proceeded to wreak absolute devastation on the battlefield. It was like watching a hitmonlee play kickball against ten year olds; simply absurd. The battle happened so quickly it’s difficult to discern exactly what took place. 

The archeops was diving for Baron when this blinding, deafening flash-bang sent it falling out of the sky unconscious. Maybe zap cannon? Whatever it was, the earth shuddered and every hair on my body stood on end. The beartic, fluffed with static and unsteadied by the blast, made to launch itself at the eelektross. It was promptly greeted with a potent flamethrower to the face. That was that. The girl nodded and the eelektross returned to her side. Secure in its victory, the beast of a pokemon resumed playing with its little cactus friend. 

I think I was trembling. I’ve seen pokemon with that sort of strength, but not in action, not this close. Arceus, some of the sand was converted to fulgurite. The girl and her eelektross never needed our partnership. They just needed a pair of convenient bodies to fill the slot in a double battle. Sure, the kid was overdressed and kind of abrupt. Still, I respected her and not merely her power. 

The trainer could have dragged that battle out; ordered her eelektross to use discharge and make the opponents fight through paralysis. Her pokemon was obviously vastly superior in strength and experience. It might have toyed with the competition; taking a few hits, cruelly letting them cling to hope that some ingenious move or stroke of luck would prevail. Instead, the girl and partner were efficient. Her pokemon and mine were kept safe and the battle was ended decisively before an excess of ugliness could occur. Julianne once told Sofia that “the purest form of battle is not for glory but for life itself.” Dr. Skye didn’t train her pokemon for a battle cabaret. She trained them to build their strength and heart so that they might survive the worst the world could offer. That’s the spirit I saw in this trainer. 

Highlighter-boy was not so graceful in defeat. While his brother tended to their pokemon, he stalked forth and, for a moment, I thought he might have the audacity to swing a fist. A glance from the creature that knocked out his 300kg beartic in 20 seconds made him reconsider. 

When the eelektross trainer handed me my cut of the reward (I’ll finally replace the bike Luca’s druddigon chewed up) I learned that she was called Felicia. She had a rather severe countenance for someone whose name means “happy.” She also had very lighthearted pokemon for someone so intense. Clarisse had already folded her eelektross a paper hat (which I dearly wish I had photographed). The large pokemon was also surprisingly gentle in its playful interactions with Vivi. Then again, I won’t soon forget the jolly electric type’s underlying strength. 

Overall, Felicia herself was terse but not unkind. She was clearly uninterested in a handshake though. Some people are simply adverse to touch and I’m loath to demand their discomfort. She was rather distant and refined, her features almost unnervingly expressionless. However, I couldn’t miss the subtle look of fondness she spared for her team. 

Though Felicia was a relative stranger, I felt a certain kinship with the trainer. Highlighter-boy and his kind love the battle culture but most lack the sheer focused passion and discipline to persevere in the long run. They’ll throw themselves at the league until they’re broke or beaten one too many times. Then they’ll look for desk jobs. Felicia and her eelektross communicated in a silent, seamless way that speaks of thousands of hours of practice. After the battle she thanked me, but I sense her mind was elsewhere; already contemplating the next step in her mission. Whatever their field, artistic, academic, athletic, these people affect change. I apply myself in entirety to my science and, for the past few years, to my study of Dr. Skye. This girl is the same and I pray that spark remains within her. It brings me joy to see people with purpose; with skill, ferocity, and a thirst for something greater. 

If she had been more receptive to conversation and I hadn’t been scheduled for an interview, perhaps we could have talked. I may not be a professional trainer, but good battle tips are always appreciated. Our pokemon seemed to get along as well. With my luck, the girl’s one of those traveling types here to challenge vacationing gym leaders. She’ll be gone in a day, maybe two. I did manage to claim a memento of our battle; fulgurite. After Baron shifted some sand, I was able to retrieve some of the so-called petrified lightning. The pale, delicate branches are oddly reminiscent of coral.

Fantastically exciting as the morning was, it was also fantastically distracting. The interview with Matt and Kato is in two hours and I’ll need ten minutes to walk to the Scuba Shoppe. Considering my history of awkwardness and word vomit, I’d best have my introductions and questions well prepared. Dammit, Baron’s floating away on a wave again! I thought he was too heavy for this nonsense now.


	14. May 24th, 00:52, Interview with Kato and Matt Quiaa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 24th, 00:52  
For the past three years I have, admittedly, been deprived of human contact. That's not to say I haven't interacted with hundreds of people and pokemon over the course of my travels. Still, there was something lacking. I had Clarisse, Baron, and Vivi for company but, with my own species, there were no connections quite so personal; so intimate and rewarding. I believe this is a self-inflicted condition. Even at home with mum there was distance between us. My mind was elsewhere. By time I realized we had hardly spoken during my visit, I was on the bus to another adventure. All that was left to prove I’d even been in Floccesy Town were clean clothes and a tin of homemade fudge cookies. 

The exchange with Matt and his father awakened these thoughts. Sure, they bickered, but that’s part of the point. Father and son were close enough to bicker; to understand each other’s habits and casually jest and squabble. When Luca and I argue, there’s always an underlying accusation; subtle and inescapable venom. Mum’s experiences have rendered her too emotionally brittle for even playful criticism. Julianne’s relationship with her parents was turbulent but the affection between brother and sister never wavered, never waned. Perhaps that made the anguish even more poignant in the end. 

What am I doing? This isn’t a diary, it’s research. Yet, somehow, I find myself venting here night after night. Is that my fate? To accept this as my sole emotional outlet? I fear without this log, my pokemon, and my legally dead childhood idol, I might go mad. Arceus, what a lifestyle. 

The Scuba Shoppe was a pleasant place. Someone had painted a seascape mural on the walls outside and, above the entrance, there were splendid wooden carvings of lanturn and alomomola. I was slightly startled when the door chimes tinkled and a samurott careened into my personal space. Matt informed me that the name of this magnificent pokemon was Bubbles. I tried my best not to chuckle while Bubbles the samurott glowered in my direction. I also had no concept of what a smiling prune in swim-shorts looked like until meeting Kato. I still can't decide if that was a large sunhat or a small flying saucer. 

Matt poured the most delicious cup of jasmine tea while Clarisse overfed the corsola in their aquarium. Baron behaved but Vivi, the little brat, took off her skull diaper, put a dive mask on it, and fluttered about naked. Thankfully, neither Kato nor the imposing Bubbles seemed perturbed. Finally, we settled with our tea and the interview began. After listening to the recording, I transcribed it here...

AIDAN: Thank you for inviting me again, Mr. Quiaa. 

KATO: Call me Kato. I’m no fancy pants. 

AIDAN: I must digress. Those are exquisitely patterned board shorts. 

KATO: Ha! I like you, son. 

AIDAN: Likewise. 

KATO: So whatcha got? Ask away.

AIDAN: Would you mind recounting your initial encounter with Dr. Skye? 

KATO: Not at all. She was a friend, that lady. I didn't know who she was at first. Came in with some fine pokemon though, so I figured her for a decent trainer. 

AIDAN: Her team was something else. 

KATO: Mhm, I won’t ever forget the look of that scolipede stickin’ its head in through my window. Pretty and scary all at once. Pretty scary.

AIDAN: Gemma certainly could be. When did you determine Dr. Skye’s identity? 

KATO: Not till she checked out. I saw the name on the receipt and, by Kyogre, that same name was on my little girl’s school project. What’re the odds a famous scientist walks in my store? Tell me, what’re the odds? 

MATT: Here we go. 

AIDAN: Minuscule, I suppose. 

KATO: Right you are! It’s like that poker hand with Mr. Reed. Remember at that party when Danny’s arbok swallowed a canoe? 

MATT: He doesn’t remember. He wasn’t there and it was a kayak. 

KATO: It’s my story. I’ll paddle your rear like a kayak! 

AIDAN: So, Kato, do you happen to have a copy of the aforementioned receipt? 

KATO: I surely do. My granddaughter brought it by with a whole pan of pistachero biscuits. 

MATT: Pistachio. 

KATO: I said that! Now don’t you fret young man, I’ll get that receipt. 

AIDAN: Thank you. 

KATO: You’re most welcome. Matthew boy! Get me that paper! 

MATT: I’m three feet away. Stop yelling. 

KATO: My Matthew takes good care of me, even if he’s got the wits of a slowpoke and the speed of a ferrothorn rollin’ uphill. 

MATT: If I’m so slow, why am I running errands? 

AIDAN: Wow, she picked up some serious equipment.

KATO: She was a serious lady. You can’t dive where she wanted to without the right stuff or you’re good as dead. 

AIDAN: And where might that be? 

KATO: Miss Skye was an adventurer. She liked to dive deep and explore all them crevices in the cove. 

AIDAN: What cove? 

KATO: By the cliffs they’ve got sea caves. Water’s rough at the surface, but it’s alright once you’re in. When the team got some experience under their belts, I took ‘em there all the time. 

AIDAN: That sounds quite perilous. I assume you’re an extremely skilled diver to navigate caves, let alone guide a tourist. 

KATO: My lanturn and I had top notch training back in Hoenn. We were champs. 

AIDAN: My team isn’t aquatically inclined, so I have little insight on such matters. 

KATO: That’s fine. I always tell divers to swim with a strong water type. My Layla, bless her soul, was even better. Not only could she get you out of a tight spot, but she’d zap the sea beasts and scare ‘em off. 

AIDAN: Water and electric is an exceptionally rare typing. 

KATO: Doesn’t have to be water, just has to swim well. I bet Miss Skye’s Rukka could’ve powered every lightbulb in the whole damn town. The jellicent were toast. 

MATT: Dad, it’s been 60 years. How do you remember that pokemon’s name when you forget the glasses on your own face? 

KATO: Bah! Stay outta my interview or I’ll forget not to dump tea down your ear canal! 

AIDAN: No need for tea where it shouldn’t be. Is the cove the only place Dr. Skye explored? 

KATO: Are you braindead? Trainee needs a couple months of good lessons to even think of swimming there. 

AIDAN: Then where else did she swim? 

KATO: Lots’a places I suppose. We started in a pool out back. Baby stuff; breathing exercises, hand signals, learnin’ the gear. Didn’t last long. They were on a boat in open water soon enough. Never seen a pair so determined to master it. 

AIDAN: You mean Dr. Skye and Rukka? 

KATO: An eelektross don’t need teaching to do what they’re bred for. Diving’s in their blood. I’m talkin’ about the lady and her zoroark. 

AIDAN: Feliks?

KATO: Yessiree. You know, I designed a custom suit and mask for him. 

AIDAN: So that’s why the second wetsuit was so expensive. 

KATO: Charged ‘em less than I could’ve, but it’s not every day you get to work on experimental gear. Plus, I liked miss Skye, even if her chandelure scared the living crap outta me. Locked myself in the bathroom first time I saw it. 

AIDAN: You wouldn’t be the only one. So about Feliks? 

KATO: Yeah, that pokemon was a real brainiac. Liked to read my marine biology books when he thought I wasn’t looking. Nifty with a dive computer too. Smart trainer, smart pokemon, I guess. 

AIDAN: Feliks was a genius in his own right. According to Dr. Skye, he played a fundamental role in defining the neuronal electrophysiology and bioenergetic processes that operate in telepathic pokemon. 

KATO: I don’t know what nonsense just came outta your piehole. Still, I’m not surprised the zoroark understood it. 

AIDAN: It’s a shame many overlook his contributions. People cling so stubbornly to humanocentrism. 

KATO: Your scientist friend didn’t. 

AIDAN: Of course not. No one with an ounce of reason could live alongside such beings and ignore their complexity. 

KATO: I feel that with Hugh. 

AIDAN: Who? 

KATO: My wife’s alomomola. Some blockheads called him a dumb fish. Threw plastic junk in his pool to see if he’d try and eat it. 

AIDAN: That’s sick.

KATO: Yep. I took a whole bucket of barnacles and gunk I scraped off the bottom of my boat and slimed the sorry bastards. 

MATT: Bubbles chased them out afterwards. 

AIDAN: Justice was served. 

KATO: Damn right. No one gets to treat Hugh like that. They hurt his feelings. 

AIDAN: You take good care of your pokemon. 

KATO: As I should. 

AIDAN: Kato, do you remember why Dr. Skye asked for scuba lessons? 

KATO: To go underwater. 

MATT: He knows that! 

AIDAN: I meant a more specific motive. 

KATO: Hmm...probably some kinda field research. 

AIDAN: She never mentioned the details of her projects? 

KATO: Not to me. She talked with her team though. Huddled over them maps with that chandelure and zoroark for hours. 

AIDAN: Maps? 

KATO: Seafloor maps. She scribbled all over ‘em. 

AIDAN: What was written? 

KATO: Buncha arcs and spirals. Couldn’t puzzle it out. Didn’t relate to currents, depth, nothing in my league. 

AIDAN: Are these maps still in your possession? 

KATO: Maybe. Matthew boy! Go get my folder! 

MATT: Which one? 

KATO: That one. 

MATT: Should I drag the shelf in here too? 

KATO: Don’t you sass me, young man. 

MATT: I’m 55. 

KATO: And you’d best not forget it! Now find me that folder with the beautifly print. 

MATT: They’re vivillon. 

KATO: I know what I said! 

AIDAN: While he searches, may I make another inquiry? 

KATO: Might as well kill time. If we’re lucky, he’ll be back before I drop dead. 

MATT: Heard that! 

AIDAN: Did Dr. Skye display interest in The Abyssal Ruins? 

KATO: Sorry, wanna repeat that? 

AIDAN: Did she dive the Abyssal Ruins? 

KATO: Not on my watch. 

AIDAN: And off your watch? 

KATO: Can’t say. If the law thought I sent people there, we’d be shut down in a flash. Miss Skye and Feliks had training, equipment, and a strong pokemon escort. With the tide on their side, they might’ve survived. 

AIDAN: You think they tried? 

KATO: I never pried but she marked that place up good on the maps. 

MATT: And here they are. 

AIDAN: Bizarre. 

KATO: See where them swirly lines end up? 

AIDAN: You’re right, there’s an epicenter; The Abyssal Ruins. 

MATT: So mister scientist, what do you think? 

AIDAN: There’s no legend. What she’s attempting to represent is uncertain. 

KATO: Darn. I thought you’d crack it. 

AIDAN: Not yet but there’s something familiar here. Perhaps I could retrieve the rest of my notes and compare. 

MATT: We’re closing up soon. Dad’s gotta take his meds. 

KATO: The pills can shove it. I’m solvin’ a mystery. 

AIDAN: That’s alright. Do you think I could make a copy of these to study overnight? 

KATO: Why sure. Matthew boy! 

MATT: Still right here. 

KATO: Then where are them photocopies at? 

MATT: Dad, relax. I haven’t even picked up the maps yet. 

KATO: What do you need them for? 

MATT: It’s called copying. That implies copying a thing! 

KATO: Excuses. 

AIDAN: I must thank you for your hospitality. 

KATO: You’re welcome back anytime. In fact, you better come back once you figure that mystery or we’ll send Bubbles after you. 

AIDAN: The mystery might kill me before Bubbles gets a chance. 

KATO: Nah, your pokemon love you too much to let that happen. Give ’em those maps Matthew boy. 

AIDAN: Thank you; both of you. It’s been a pleasure. 

KATO: Good luck. 

MATT: And don’t do anything stupid.

With that, I gathered my effects, re-diapered my vullaby, and bade my hosts goodbye. It’s unfortunate that they didn’t know more of Julianne’s affairs, but what they could convey was intriguing. The receipt featured the SeaPro Deep package, which included, not only basic dive essentials, but highly reinforced equipment and accessories like underwater lights. This suggests more than a bit of recreation. Perhaps Julianne used the coves to practice for the daunting Abyssal Ruins.  
.  
I was also astonished to learn that Feliks accompanied his trainer into the depths. Zoroark are proficient swimmers but most pokemon wouldn’t endure scuba training and uncomfortable human clothing for a potentially deadly mission. Then again, Feliks willingly and regularly subjected himself to invasive neurological studies. He was no average pokemon. 

Most remarkable were the maps. Dr. Skye had sketched over features of the seafloor with a series of sinuous arcs and dark nodes where they converged. Fascinatingly, her markings radiated outwards from The Abyssal Ruins. I wondered if this were some strange, amateurish way of showing potential routes to the ruins. However, the network was far too intricate and convoluted. 

It was only after browsing through Julianne’s aura diagrams that the source of familiarity became clear. The spiritual and/or bioelectrical sphere of influence of an entity is called their aura. With Keros’ aid, Dr. Skye was able to map snapshots of dynamic auras using a similar system of swirls, arcs, and nodes. It was initially unrecognizable because I’ve only ever seen it applied to living organisms and ghosts, not geography. Locations don’t generally possess true, describable auras. 

Now it cannot be unseen. If Dr. Skye’s maps are accurate, Undella bay is a dense web, almost a maelstrom of neutrally charged spiritual energy. Curiously enough, all of this is underwater. Violent currents aside, perhaps this phenomenon explains the peculiar barrenness of the ruins. Even frillish and jellicent, rulers of the Unovan seas, refuse to enter those labyrinthine chambers. Maybe they’re wary of the energetic anomaly? Though the so-called floating pokemon aren’t true ghosts, their immense spiritual mass and high negative energy class arms them with great ghostly power and spiritual sensitivity. 

Tomorrow, I’ll share this information with Sofia and, perhaps together, we can weave a more coherent recollection of Dr. Skye’s pursuits in Undella Town. I must also remind myself to report back to Kato, lest they sick Bubbles the samurott on me. For now, I’ll retire to bed...as soon as Vivi relinquishes my toothbrush. That thing is not going in her nest. 


	15. May 24th, 03:21, The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 24th, 03:21, Travel log of Aidan Rode

I had this fucked up dream, no, a nightmare and it's hard to keep my hands steady because they won't stop shaking and it's like I'm sucking in air that never reaches the lungs. Shit, I can't breathe and it's hard to see because I'm honest to Arceus crying. It's just snot and that hot, salty lacrimal taste, and I have to keep writing, keep writing, keep writing, because it helps me focus and, if I calm down, I might be able to breathe like a functional human being again. I just have to keep writing, describe something, anything, I can hear my own heartbeat and it resounds as fiercely, as thunderously as the o-daiko drums they played when I studied abroad in Sinnoh. I'm burning and it's so cold, it's searing. Frostburn. It was a dream, I'm certain, but that dreaded frigid, fiery thing still seizes me. 

Wait, wait, it's Clarisse. She's awake, she's here and I know she's an ectotherm but, by Reshiram, she's so warm. Warmer than running barefoot on the blacktop in July, than crouching beside the fire pit and sharing my breath to coax the embers. She's started that clicking, crooning routine she loves so much. I wonder if it's a lullaby. Doesn't matter. It feels like one and my heart finally has a slower tempo to sync with. Prestissimo, presto, vivace, allegro, allegretto, moderato, andante, adagio, largo, lento, grave...

I'm alright. Damn, I can't believe I just did this in my log. I'll tear it out later. At least I didn't grab one of the maps instead. That would've been a fiasco. Regardless, I need a moment to collect my thoughts. 

It's been ages since I've dreamt so vividly. I don't think it began so abhorrently either. In fact, the onset of the dream was marked by contentedness. There was a cozy room, flooded with dim firelight. I was playing the cello, and adeptly, I think. The composition was something popular...Buko Prelude maybe? At the same time, I felt oddly small, as if I had reverted back to the form of a young boy. 

A zorua rested by my feet. When I leaned down to stroke the pokemon, the creature peered up at me with such overwhelming affection and adoration; soft, vulnerable, and utterly in love. And then it stopped. The pokemon stiffened, bristled, those sweet molten eyes hardened. Strangest of all, the pokemon actually spoke. It was angry; accusatory. The zorua treated me as an invader in my own dream. 

It snarled, "Why are you here? Bring them back!" When I attempted to explain myself, the pokemon flailed and panicked. Truly, there was more fear than rage in its response. Finally, the zorua unleashed this anguished wail, a sound recalling tearing flesh and deflating dreams, and simply disintegrated; gone in a wisp of ash. 

Suddenly, the room began to echo the pokemon, hissing and moaning; ominous and agonized. The firelight returned without warmth, creeping from the hearth in flickering tendrils of blue, white, purple, even black. It engulfed everything; roaring and convulsing. This terrible, chilling light filling every crevice; nowhere to go that didn't pulse and burn and scream. Arcues, it was screaming. 

Then, something cold and awful emerged from the flames and grasped me round the wrist; a fiendish hand made of flesh or steel or something else entirely, I couldn't say. The moment it brushed my skin the world became pain. I cried and thrashed, but that thing refused to relinquish me. The fire devoured all and I couldn't see or breathe or think anything besides terror and agony and anger. A moment later, I awoke and here we are. 

Sometimes, as a child, I had nightmares that persisted beyond sleep. When the villain grabbed and restrained me, I woke feeling phantom pressure. When the freezing winds of a tempest whipped and whirled around me, I woke shivering. There was even this one dream where I was trapped on the slide of a malfunctioning waterpark and... well, let's jut say I brought the water to my sheets. I used to keep a notepad at my bedside so that I could sketch or write after such things occurred. It soothed me and, in the end, served as a record of the nightmares to help me reflect and rationalize. However, I thought that a bygone era by the age of 15. For something like this to occur now, all these years later... if I weren't so disturbed, I'd be embarrassed. 

At the moment, it's difficult to articulate exactly what I'm feeling; some foul concoction of negativity spanning the entire spectrum of unpleasant emotions. There's fear and desperation, which is understandable. However, I can't help but be struck by something else too. The only comparable point of reference I possess is when I finally realized that my father wouldn't return to us. Grief, that's what it is. I feel the ache of loss and helplessness. 

But that's not quite all. Dwelling beneath is the sickly current of another emotion, which is altogether alien to me; hatred. It's easy to be indignant; to dislike people, dislike situations and ideas. Yet, to truly, deeply loathe something requires an energy, a conviction, a cold fury that most cannot muster or comprehend. I'm not a hateful person, yet this is undeniably what I feel. It's not even specific either; just a directionless general hatred for this undeniable something, maybe everything. Whatever the case, it's disorienting and exhausting, I want to weep and flee and, simultaneously, shatter something into a billion blazing fragments. 

Clarisse made me chamomile tea. Normally, the taste and warmth would offer calm. Now it's not quite sweet or rich enough. It requires something; sugar, honey, agave, maybe chocolate? Yes, that sounds right. Chocolate contains anandamide, phenylethylamine, phenylalanine, and tryptophan, which promotes the release of endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin; pleasure and relaxation. I'll bet that expensive mini fridge snackbar has some. Generally, I would dare indulge, but tonight demands monetary sacrifice. Can one put chocolate in tea? 

In moments like these I wonder if mother was right; if my life has devolved into unhealthy obsession and mania. Julianne spent so much time chasing ghosts and here I am chasing hers. I cannot cease though. Manic or not, nightmares and near death experiences or not, I have substantial leads for the first time in months. I have hope. This is just one night, one hour of despair. Tomorrow, dawn will break and these doubts will dissolve in a sunbeam. 

Now, I must somehow conquer anxiety and return to slumber. After all, alertness is essential in an interview with the honorable Sofi Mori. We haven't used it in a while, but, theoretically, Baron still knows the move hypnosis. Perhaps we'll practice tonight...or rather, this morning.


	16. May 24th, 18:45, Interview with Sofia Mori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor. 
> 
> ***This is a bit of a long chapter. For those interested, I slipped in a few history and film references. See if you can find them.****

May 24th, 18:45, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
Sofia Mori is a fascinating individual. She's kind and crass, tough and personable, intelligent and appreciative of simplicity. Interviewing her was a pleasure and I anticipate that, with continued correspondence, we will make fine friends. How incredible! Years ago, I could only dream of befriending one of Dr. Skye's dearest companions. 

The content of the pokegear-xtransceiver interview itself must be analyzed in depth. I fear I may be jumping to conclusions but it seems that some pieces of the puzzle have found their convenient match. New theories stir softly in the recesses of the mind, but, with further evidence, they shall roar. For now, my pokemon and I will rest after our stroll on the shore. I’ll return to work tonight. 

Though I've only been here for two days, I feel that the rhythm of this beach town is beginning to reveal itself. The team and I saw a few familiar faces. Matt and Bubbles were teaching a gaggle of impatient students to snorkel. Luckily, Matt's patience far surpassed their own. When this one man finally stopped drowning in three feet of water, I thought Matt might like to drown the moron himself. Apparently, samurott have also mastered the art of the disapproving glare. Or maybe it's just Bubbles? The dignified mustache helps, regardless. 

In addition, there's an ice cream truck that passes every 45 minutes or so. I know because Baron's love of ice cream cares not for his lactose intolerance and he follows its path longingly with his bioluminescent eyes. The seller has a vanillite who freezes and shapes the delightful treats. Considering her Pokemon's uncanny resemblance to a frosty dessert, the whole affair looks a bit sick and twisted. Rest assured, however, vanillite bear no genetic relation to frozen dairy products. 

I even saw Felicia again, albeit from a distance. Vivi wanted to greet her eelektross, but I sensed the trainer would dislike such an interruption. She had about six books open on her beach blanket (been there); same dispassionate countenance, but unmistakably absorbed in her studies. Brushing up on battle strategies perhaps? I wonder if she's always so severe. 

Anyway, after Baron took his daily overenthusiastic dip in the brine, I settled down on a warm rock to transcribe my recorded interview. I've conducted interviews before that were highly professional and impersonal. This was not one of them. At times, it even felt like I was the one in the spotlight. We had a wonderful conversation, though it began on a rather abrupt note...

SOFIA: Look, if you’re that noctowl-unibrow kid from Clair’s gym, the answer is still a big fat no. 

AIDAN: Actually- 

SOFIA: My arcanine’s got a rubber ball older than you. Hookup with another desperate 20 year old. 

AIDAN: Actually, my desire entails an interview. Not interested in a May-December Romance, no offense. 

SOFIA: Aidan? 

AIDAN: Yes ma’am. 

SOFIA: Shit, sorry about that.

AIDAN: No worries. 

SOFIA: I’ve got a few sketchy fans. 

AIDAN: I’m simply surprised a toy could last so long under the abuse of an arcanine. 

SOFIA: It looks like a lump of coal and smells like burnt rubber. 

AIDAN: Isn’t it? 

SOFIA: Pretty much. 

AIDAN: Typical. My brother’s simisear sets off a dozen sprinkler systems a year. 

SOFIA: Only a dozen? Lucky bastard. 

AIDAN: Fire types are mayhem incarnate. 

SOFIA: Cheers. Now, what can I do for you? 

AIDAN: Did you review the documents I sent? 

SOFIA; That death’s door stuff was creepy but so in-character. Aside from practice sessions, I don’t think Julie went 10 minutes without contemplating the inevitable. 

AIDAN: When one dwells with ghosts and devotes themselves to the spiritual sciences, death surely weighs heavily on the mind. 

SOFIA: No shit. I’ll bet you’re not immune either. 

AIDAN: This amateur sleuthing gig does make the end a prominent topic. 

SOFIA: More than that. 

AIDAN: Oh? 

SOFIA: I did some reading. You’re the guy who published that new NSE research. 

AIDAN: I’m flattered you bothered to investigate. 

SOFIA: Eh, I hardly understood a lick past the abstract. Still got your references though. No wonder you went detective over Julie. You’re practically her successor. 

AIDAN: Don’t say such things. My head will swell like a drifblim till it bursts. 

SOFIA: Wouldn’t want that. Now, lets hit your Abyssal Ruins theory. 

AIDAN: Based on the book cipher, the equipment rented, and, of course, the maps, it makes sense. 

SOFIA: I didn’t even know the place existed until your message. 

AIDAN: Truly? She never mentioned anything remotely similar? 

SOFIA: Not that I remember. 

AIDAN: Well, it has been over half a century. 

SOFIA: And 11 year old me had a wicked case of selective hearing. 

AIDAN: Surely you wouldn’t have ignored something so alarming? 

SOFIA: In one of my moods, Julie could’ve revealed the secrets of the universe and I’d zone out to a cereal jingle. 

AIDAN: Fair enough. What do you recall of the trip, then? 

SOFIA: A lot, surprisingly. It was a formative experience. 

AIDAN: How do you mean? 

SOFIA: It’s like when Sho was still a mareep and won his first big battle. Something just clicked inside, the spark of passion swelling, pardon the pun. 

AIDAN: It brings to mind my first exposure to Dr. Skye’s SE dynamics models. 

SOFIA: Why? 

AIDAN: I fell in love with the science at once and began my trajectory. 

SOFIA: You get it then. Studying with Julie was a real game changer for me too. 

AIDAN; How so? 

SOFIA: It’s hard to describe. We built strength and new techniques, but that's not a quarter of it. 

AIDAN: Could you elaborate? 

SOFIA: Sure. Though there’s overlap, Julie was really teaching two styles of battling. There’s sport and there’s survival. 

AIDAN: She mentioned that in her literature. 

SOFIA: “Spirit and Stratagem.” She dedicated that book to me and I went totally berserk; bragged to random people on the street for weeks like a caffeinated loudred. 

AIDAN: Charming. 

SOFIA: I was a kid. Cut me some slack. 

AIDAN: I’ll attempt. 

SOFIA: You’d better. Anyway, with Julie, I studied official battling, which she could navigate but didn’t much care for, and functional battling; stuff outside the arena that you can’t anticipate and never signed up for. 

AIDAN: The stakes are different in the field. 

SOFIA: You bet. In the real world, you meet wild pokemon that’d like to straight up eviscerate you and criminals that’ll murder, rape, and rob. You get lost in the wilderness, screwed by natural disasters, sucked into all manner of fucked up situations. Then, your team has to figure out how to handle it. 

AIDAN; I imagine it adds ambiguity to the definition of victory. 

SOFIA: Sometimes you’re taking the enemy down but, often, it’s just about surviving; knowing how to bluff, use your surroundings, escape a bad spot, play dirty if you have to. Plus, when the other guy’s a crook, a rutting nidoking, or, I don’t know, a collapsing building, I guarantee they don’t give a damn about league regulations. 

AIDAN: The root of all battling is survival. 

SOFIA: That’s why people love it. 

AIDAN: I don’t follow. 

SOFIA: What’s more thrilling than a struggle of life and death, even if you tone down the dying? 

AIDAN: The underground rings don’t. 

SOFIA: They just busted one in Goldenrod City. 

AIDAN: I’ve seen some of the footage. My leavanny couldn’t bear to watch. 

SOFIA: It’s sickening. There was this part with a muk and a pidgeot and it made me think of Kiki. To know there’s someone out there that’d find her pain so entertaining they’ll pay...it haunts me.

AIDAN: Apologies for bringing it up. 

SOFIA: Nah, I’m glad you know; glad you care. More people should. 

AIDAN: Shall we return to your training?

SOFIA: Mhm. See, people called me a prodigy but I wasn’t some magical battle goddess. I just did what most kids my age couldn’t be bothered with. I fucking studied. 

AIDAN: Ha! For that, they just dubbed me a nerd. 

SOFIA: Statisticians aren’t usually popular with the cool crowd, but it helps when you deal in explosions. I studied pokemon; knew their strengths and weaknesses, their specific roles on a team, items designed to enhance them. I diagrammed possible outcomes to get foresight. 

AIDAN: You must have annihilated those children. I’ve seen 10 year olds challenge Nimbasa gym with a dewott and a rufflet. 

SOFIA: Wow. Might as well hand ’em a fork and stick ’em in a toaster. 

AIDAN: Same result. 

SOFIA; Yeah. My rivals called me The Oracle ‘cause I predicted almost every move they made; keyword: almost. Julie made me more than a computer in a skirt. 

AIDAN: That’s a harsh assertion. 

SOFIA; It was true. I remember this moment on the beach, sitting there wondering how my victreebel had lost this one sparring match. Even accounting for details, type, experience, EVs, nature, movesets, Yuki should have destroyed Johnny’s boldore. 

AIDAN: And it didn’t go that way. 

SOFIA: No. We lost and losses like that drove me insane. 

AIDAN: Real battles can never be predicted with certainty. History itself is rife with accidents, contradictions, coincidences, all manner of miracles and unlikeliness. 

SOFIA: A great trainer knows that. They’re adaptable and don’t rely on the stats to take care of themselves. Pokemon are more than stats. 

AIDAN: They’re complex, fallible individuals in a world ruled by entropy. 

SOFIA: Exactly. 

AIDAN: So that’s what you were missing? 

SOFIA; Julie taught me to create the ideal setup for victory and prepare for when that wasn’t possible. 

AIDAN; When all odds were against you. 

SOFIA: I had to train my pokemon, not only to be powerful, but to be versatile; deal with surprises and harness their emotions in battle. Most importantly, Julie taught me to be a real leader to them. 

AIDAN: You had discipline and knowledge. You needed charisma and creativity. 

SOFIA: Yeah. Johnny had the opposite problem. He was fantastic in some ways; inspiring, unpredictable. He slacked on the fundamentals though. 

AIDAN: Funny, considering he was older. 

SOFIA: 16 years older but a real pal. We bonded over morning cartoons; good taste. 

AIDAN: From what I’ve read, the Skye siblings regarded you as family. 

SOFIA: Johnny and Julianne were my best friends; best human friends anyway. Arren’s still number one overall. 

AIDAN: Good. Insulting an arcanine is never wise. 

SOFIA; Oh, I know. The mailman used to tease him. 

AIDAN: And? 

SOFIA: One day he snapped; chased the truck and came trotting home with the hood like a giant frisbee. I almost pitied the driver. 

AIDAN: Did he deserve Arren’s ire? 

SOFIA; Oh yes, but the mail company had me fined anyway. 

AIDAN: Sounds familiar. 

SOFIA: You know, I first met Johnny in Undella town. Julie probably paired us ‘cause our styles were so different. 

AIDAN: You could exchange what the other lacked. 

SOFIA: Our pokemon too. We actually traded for a while; my haunter for his boldore. 

AIDAN: And thus, they evolved. 

SOFIA: Donut was a shy gigalith but a total sweetheart; patient too. He let Kiki build nests on his back. 

AIDAN: Is he still with you? 

SOFIA: We traded back but, after Johnny passed, it felt right to adopt some of his team. 

AIDAN: Which ones? 

SOFIA: Donut, Mimi, and Ember. 

AIDAN: The gigalith, lilligant, and darmanitan? I thought his stoutland was still alive as well. 

SOFIA; Bailey stayed with Johnny’s granddaughter. Felt responsible for her, I guess. 

AIDAN: And John’s wife?

SOFIA: Dead. By Entei's fire, we used to laugh our asses off about Julia. That whole family was nothing but a mess of J names. 

AIDAN: Sounds confusing. 

SOFIA: People mixed up Johnny's wife and sister constantly. For Julie, it was comedy gold. She brought up freaky, pseudo-incestous nonsense whenever the poor sap let his guard down. 

AIDAN: What’s a family without some gross inside jokes? 

SOFIA: Right?

AIDAN: The renowned composer Amadia was no better with his sister. They liked to write letters containing detailed descriptions of flatulence. 

SOFIA: Fun guy. Julie didn’t drink but she wrote a few seriously messed up drinking songs. Something about licking butts? 

AIDAN: Six part choral canon; lovely counterpoint. 

SOFIA: We had a bonfire on the beach one night. Our favorite zoroark pulled the stick out of their rear long enough to sing a few verses with us. 

AIDAN: He sang? 

SOFIA: In their human illusion. They were a countertenor, believe it or not. Or maybe a soprano? Gender was a flexible thing with Feliks. 

AIDAN: I was unaware. 

SOFIA: Outside of Julie’s team, only Johnny and I knew. 

AIDAN: Why? 

SOFIA: Not sure. Maybe it was easier not to share. 

AIDAN: That’s quite sad. 

SOFIA; But also Feliks’ decision alone. I would appreciate you keeping that to yourself as well. 

AIDAN: Of course. Why did you tell me in the first place? 

SOFIA: Maybe because I think they would’ve liked you. Maybe because they’re gone, and I want someone to remember Feliks for who they are after I die. 

AIDAN: Do you believe Dr. Skye’s pokemon are dead? 

SOFIA: Can’t say. Part of me thinks Julie’s team wouldn’t have let her die alone. At the same time, many of them were destined to outlive her regardless. 

AIDAN: True. Milo, as an unfezant, died young, but a scolipede can live for 90 years, a maractus for 150, an eelektross for 200, and a zoroark for almost a half millennium. 

SOFIA: Chandelure can hang around on earth indefinitely. If the team survived whatever killed Julie, it’s one of my greatest regrets. 

AIDAN: That they survived? 

SOFIA: That I wasn’t there for them. Those pokemon were my friends. I should’ve been there in their grief, given them someplace to go. 

AIDAN: The circumstances were beyond your control and I doubt they were without protection. 

SOFIA: What do you mean? 

AIDAN: They weren’t weak pokemon and they loved one another fiercely. Gemma and Rukka were enormous, powerful predators. Allegra could befriend almost anyone. Feliks was a genius, capable of appearing human and Keros was so intimidatingly lethal only a lunatic would challenge him. They’d be alright. 

SOFIA: But still broken. 

AIDAN: Can’t argue there. 

SOFIA: You’re sort of right though. Keros and Feliks wouldn’t let their team go astray. 

AIDAN: They were phenomenal battlers, I’ve heard. 

SOFIA: The others were tough. Rukka and Gemma were beasts, Milo was agile as anything, and, even though Allegra wasn’t into it, she could hold her own. Julie, Keros, and Feliks were the real brains of the operation though. 

AIDAN: According to Dr. Skye’s journals, they were spectacular strategists and improvisers. She trusted their judgement. 

SOFIA: If Feliks hadn’t been a pokemon, they could’ve been a kickass trainer. 

AIDAN: Or perhaps a professor. 

SOFIA: Even better. Still liked to have their ears scratched though. 

AIDAN: I was under the impression they grew out of it with evolution. 

SOFIA: Are you kidding? Once a canine, always a canine. Between Feliks, Bailey, and Arren, I should’ve been paid by the hour for ear scratches and belly rubs. 

AIDAN: Baron enjoys it as well. 

SOFIA: Who? 

AIDAN: My watchog. When I have an hour to spare, he likes to be stroked and fed poffins while we watch Hoenn dramas.

SOFIA: You know, arthritis can take a swing of arsenic but getting old’s done me some good. I appreciate the little moments like that now. 

AIDAN: You didn’t before? 

SOFIA: I did, but it’s different. 

AIDAN: More profound in retrospect? 

SOFIA: Maybe. That summer’s so vivid in my mind. Yeah, I worked my ass off but I remember the other stuff too. 

AIDAN: Like what? 

SOFIA: Laying on my lapras’ shell in the bay, just feeling the sunshine and seabreeze. Sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to play unresolved piano progressions so Julie’d have to finish them. Seeing how many clothes hangers we could dangle from Gemma’s horns before she flung them everywhere. Things like that. 

AIDAN: It sounds lovely. 

SOFIA: It was. Sometimes, I just followed Julie around, fascinated, like a lost ducklett while she worked. Life never seemed to slow down for her. 

AIDAN: She was a passionate and dedicated woman. 

SOFIA: She was a machine. When Julie wasn’t coaching us, she was always practicing, composing, training, writing, studying, learning how to freaking scuba dive as if she weren’t busy enough. 

AIDAN: It concerned you? 

SOFIA: Obviously. We were living together and I’d never seen her sleep.

AIDAN: She kept rather odd hours. 

SOFIA: Understatement of a lifetime. You know, she disappeared for three days that summer. 

AIDAN: What? Why? 

SOFIA: One morning, she told us about some scuba trip with her teacher, left Milo, Gemma, and Allegra in charge, and set off. 

AIDAN: Her instructor never mentioned this yesterday. 

SOFIA: You think she was fibbing? 

AIDAN: Partially. I think she went diving but I don’t think she went with Kato. 

SOFIA: Why not? 

AIDAN: Because Kato wouldn’t haven’t condoned her destination. 

SOFIA: The Abyssal Ruins? 

AIDAN: Maybe. 

SOFIA: I believe she took Keros’ pokeball on that trip. 

AIDAN: Didn’t she take him everywhere? 

SOFIA: Not diving. 

AIDAN: Makes sense. Chandelure are likely disinclined towards underwater exploration. 

SOFIA: So what changed this time? 

AIDAN: I can’t say. Rukka could handle water type threats alone and Keros wouldn’t have been much help with the currents...or maybe he was. 

SOFIA: What? 

AIDAN: Not water currents; spiritual energy. The Abyssal Ruins are a hub of neutral spiritual energy and Keros could detect it. Maybe even manipulate it! 

SOFIA: So she dragged her fire type to the bottom of a bay? 

AIDAN: Chandelure have an affinity for all fire but their flames are spiritual, not physical. 

SOFIA: So water wouldn’t have put him out. 

AIDAN: Precisely. 

SOFIA: But why risk her life to swim in spiritual energy soup? What did she hope to find? 

AIDAN: The source. 

SOFIA: Death’s door? 

AIDAN: Perhaps. 

SOFIA: I thought the ruins themselves were death’s door. 

AIDAN: But the important part is the anomaly that dwells within. That’s what she would have been after. She was able to study spiritual phenomena secondhand through Keros’ reports. 

SOFIA: It was always neat watching them talk. Weird, but neat. 

AIDAN: Why weird? 

SOFIA: It looked like Julie was loony, talking to herself, though I knew she wasn’t. Keros understood English, but couldn’t speak it. Julie understood the Fire Sign, but couldn’t speak it either. 

AIDAN: It was physically impossible. 

SOFIA: So they just chatted away in two languages, seamlessly. 

AIDAN: Utterly revolutionary. 

SOFIA: Well, humans and litwick have never been best buddies. Not much time to talk while you’re massacring each other. Guess they figured why learn? 

AIDAN: I learned. I’ve spent years studying the Treatise on Fire Sign, watching videos, examining panels. However, without regular interaction from a native speaker, I’ll never become so fluent as Dr. Skye. 

SOFIA: Ever considered The Celestial Tower? The litwick there are pretty chill. 

AIDAN: At least while you remain within their sacred domain. Once you leave the building, the chase is on. 

SOFIA: You’ve got experience? 

AIDAN: Many were pleased to make conversation but it’s still best not to leave at night. 

SOFIA: They attacked you? 

AIDAN: Stalked me, at least. Didn’t like the look of my vullaby though, being a dark type and all. I think they appreciated my knowledge of their language too; took off some of the heat. 

SOFIA: Sometimes, I think Julie and Keros were beyond language. 

AIDAN: As are all close friends, species aside. 

SOFIA: The only time I saw Julie sit still is when they meditated together. 

AIDAN: Interesting. A chandelure’s volatile aura isn’t exactly conducive to meditation. 

SOFIA: They did it anyway, especially in the later years. 

AIDAN: You watched them? 

SOFIA: Yeah. It was honestly scary the first couple of times I walked in on it. 

AIDAN: Why? It was just meditation. 

SOFIA: Well, trust them to make meditation look spooky as shit. 

AIDAN: How? 

SOFIA: I walked in and they’re across from each other, motionless, flames swirling around on the ceiling. I piped up to tell Julie the room’s on freaking fire and they’re not snapping out of this ghostly trance. I shook her like a wild ambipom and it still took a whole minute for the jerks to say hello like they hadn’t just scared the ever-loving crap out of me. 

AIDAN: They ignored you? 

SOFIA: I don’t think they heard me, period. To top it off, she was freezing. 

AIDAN: Like she was ill? 

SOFIA: Like she was dead and lounging in the mortuary cooler. 

AIDAN: But she was breathing normally? 

SOFIA: As if asleep, save the fact that I could literally see her breath. 

AIDAN: Was the room cold or was she cold? 

SOFIA: Both, I guess, but I swear that condensation was not from body heat. 

AIDAN: So she was cooler than her surroundings? 

SOFIA: Frigid. Sometimes, I draped a coat or blanket on her but it never helped and she never once shivered. 

AIDAN: Did she react at all to you? 

SOFIA: Nope. I used to peek through the door. Watching Julie work out how the heck she got wrapped in a blanket cocoon was a riot. Sadly, she caught on; killjoy. 

AIDAN: That’s a bizarre situation. 

SOFIA: You seem fixed on it. 

AIDAN: It’s perhaps within my academic sphere. You see, NSE often manifests in the physical realm as a cold sensation. 

SOFIA: And chandelure are one of the strongest known sources of negative spiritual energy on earth. I know. We used Keros as an air conditioner. 

AIDAN: Survivors of litwick and lampent attacks are often catatonic due to residual hypnosis and occasionally hypothermic. 

SOFIA: So you think she was feeding him her lifeforce? 

AIDAN: There would have been more severe symptoms. Besides, it wouldn’t have been worthwhile for something as massive as a chandelure unless he took her entire spiritual mass. 

SOFIA: Soul and all. 

AIDAN: Yes. Julianne was daring but not a fool. She wouldn’t subject herself to such dangerous levels of NSE nor would Keros allow it. 

SOFIA: Unless she knew a loophole. 

AIDAN: What loophole? The living simply cannot withstand such. It’s why the litwick family is able to hunt us so effectively. 

SOFIA: She talked about that a lot. Something about gravity and charge and whatnot. 

AIDAN: The ghosts employ two main weapons against their prey. In proximity, the highly excited NSE of their lifeforce converts ours to the same state. However, our spiritual masses aren’t bulky enough to support that energy level so the bonds between lifeforce, soul, and physical anchor become unstable. 

SOFIA: And ghosts are huge, spiritually speaking. 

AIDAN: So their gravity draws our now vulnerable lifeforce away. Chandelure are worse; like a black hole, dense and massive enough to take even the soul in an instant. 

SOFIA: Thankfully Keros usually dampened his aura. 

AIDAN: Thankfully indeed. 

SOFIA; So what were they doing? I was in the same room and I never turned into an icicle. 

AIDAN: I...I’m not certain. Not yet. 

SOFIA: If Julie was trying some unprecedented spiritual science thing, I feel like she would have published it. 

AIDAN: Unless she desired secrecy. 

SOFIA: She was a scientist. Why would she hide a breakthrough? 

AIDAN: There were those that resented and feared Keros, you’re well aware. 

SOFIA: And if they knew she was doing creepy ghost rituals with him, they’d explode. Shoot. 

AIDAN: How did she explain her behavior to you? 

SOFIA: She called it meditation. Promised it was safe. 

AIDAN: I don’t wish to offend her memory but might she have lied? 

SOFIA: Hmm...Julie had a killer poker face and she felt responsible for everyone. She didn’t like to worry us; always licked her wounds in private. 

AIDAN: So? 

SOFIA: Maybe she lied. 

AIDAN: Did Feliks comment? 

SOFIA; They curled up nearby at times. I think they were guarding the pair; knew they were basically unconscious. 

AIDAN: When did it all begin? 

SOFIA: Slow down! Have mercy on an old lady’s memory. 

AIDAN: You’re sharp for an old lady. 

SOFIA: Buttering me up, huh? I’d say Julie was in her 50s when I first caught them at it. 

AIDAN: 50s...any opinions on the beheeyem theory? 

SOFIA: What’s that got to do with this? 

AIDAN: Humor me. 

SOFIA: I just hope you’re wrong. I truly do. 

AIDAN: And if I’m not? 

SOFIA: Then I’d say they’re decent murder suspects and I can hardly imagine a worse way to die. 

AIDAN: But Dr. Skye emerged from the rendezvous. She lived another 20 years. 

SOFIA: So what? She could’ve gone back. They could’ve hunted her down. 

AIDAN: They would have been weak to Keros, Feliks, and Gemma.

SOFIA: The beheeyem drove darmanitan, sigilyph, scrafty, even krookodile out of their territory. They bring down aircraft, jam radio signals. Who knows what they’re capable of! 

AIDAN: Oh Arceus, I’ve upset you. 

SOFIA: No. It’s fine. 

AIDAN: I’m so sorry Sofia. 

SOFIA: I agreed to interview you so I could finally face this, however harsh the reality. 

AIDAN: That takes courage. 

SOFIA: Courage I should have mustered years ago. 

AIDAN: You were grieving. 

SOFIA: For two decades. At first, I was desperate to find Julie and her team but after Johnny… thinking of them hurt so much. Even the beautiful memories. 

AIDAN: Sofia, I may be a child compared to you but I empathize. I know this anguish because I felt it for my father when he left our family. Speaking about this with, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, is so much braver than I’ve ever been. 

SOFIA: You're not a stranger, Aidan. 

AIDAN: Not anymore. 

SOFIA: Whatever you discover, good or bad, I want to know. Even if you never find out why she vanished, just hearing these missing pieces of her life is vital. 

AIDAN: I’ll share all I have. 

SOFIA: I’m sorry, I just miss them so much. 

AIDAN: They were with you for 41 years. How could you not? 

SOFIA: You know, Johnny’s son became a cellist and moved to Johto. 

AIDAN: With the Catallia orchestra, right? 

SOFIA: Every time I see him play, I don't just think of the music. I think of Johnny. I think of Julie. 

AIDAN: She inspired him. 

SOFIA: She inspired us all, crazy asshole or not. 

AIDAN: Most interesting people are a little bit crazy.

SOFIA: Yeah. Well, Arren’s butt-scooting again. I’d better walk him before he scorches the carpet. Keep me updated. 

AIDAN: Of course. Thank you so much for this. 

SOFIA: My pleasure. Take care, Aidan. We'll speak again soon.


	17. May 25th, 00:05, Ponderings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.

May 25th, 00:05, Travel log of Aidan Rode,  
  


This interview has left me brimming with endless inquiries. Rarely have I been so simultaneously ecstatic, curious, and utterly frustrated. With her words, lengths of red thread weave facets of my investigation ever more tightly together, yet, just as many extend answerlessly into empty space. Perhaps empty is the wrong word, though. Murky is more fitting. Now, I must simply find a way to navigate said murk. 

I sent a message to Kato, regarding Dr. Skye’s three day scuba trip a short while ago. Apparently, he doesn’t recall taking Julianne on such a lengthy expedition. Then again, Kato also called me Ashley and doesn’t recall the importance of placing a lid on the blender. I would take my jacket to the laundry but Baron seems to relish licking off the remaining Yache berry smoothie. Who knows, maybe it’ll enhance his ice-type resistance. 

Assuming the ancient diver’s memory served him, it is my position that Dr. Skye was attempting to reach the source of the spiritual anomaly (death’s door) so that she might observe or interact with it more closely. What this anomaly might be, I am yet uncertain. It’s difficult to imagine anything capable of possessing such a wide aura (many hundreds of square kilometers), especially one so uniformly neutral. The auras of all organisms are subject to minor internal fluctuations in charge. The indications on Dr. Skye’s maps suggest that this one is unusually stable, the currents simply gathering intensity towards the center. Whatever the source, I don’t think it’s a sentient entity, living or ghostly. 

Unfortunately, due to its neutrality, I am unable to properly examine the structure from a distance with my NSEmeter. The device is entirely dependent on charge contrast and this uniform aura will likely offer little to no feedback. Thus, I’m not sure how to discover exactly what’s down there aside from either exploring myself or hiring someone to do it for me. Untrained and unaccompanied by aquatic pokemon, any attempt I make will likely end in disaster. As of now, I’m not acquainted with individuals in possession of the appropriate government permit either. I also don’t know anyone both willing to break the law and skilled enough to complete such a dive, regardless of pay. 

Considering Matt’s stellar record, he might be capable of surviving the endeavor. However, even on the slim chance he agreed, his father would surely forbid the expedition. I could not forgive myself for driving a wedge between Matt and Kato, or worse, endangering his life in the pursuit of my own ends. 

Then, there’s the possibility of enlisting the aid of intelligent and capable pokemon to investigate unaccompanied. My best bet would be frillish or jellicent, due to their exceptional spiritual sensitivity. However, they are relatively rare in captivity and finding a trainer willing to cooperate would be a difficult task. Not only would they be required to allow their frillish/jellicent into the depths unsupervised but the respective pokemon would receive extensive education on their task to report effectively. Such a risky, effortful, and time-consuming proposal is unlikely to be accepted. Wild frillish and jellicent, on the other hand, are too hostile to be worthwhile. My pokemon and I would probably end up drowned and drained of lifeforce for trusting them. Dhelmise is another option, but they’re rather antisocial and their range does not include the Unovan coast. I would have to seek the help of a trainer from another region. 

I am also incredibly intrigued by Sofia’s description of Dr. Skye and Keros’ meditation sessions. During these times, both were unresponsive to their surroundings. However, Keros was still obviously conscious enough to dampen his potent aura, otherwise Julianne’s spirit would have been drawn into his event horizon and destroyed. Feliks, who reportedly lingered nearby, likely would have succumbed as well. 

Next, is the fact that Julianne was cold enough for her breath to produce condensation. Usually, breath can be seen because the outside air is cooler than that which emerges from our heated respiratory tract. If Sofia is to be believed, the reverse is applicable here (as can be observed in ice-types like vanillite, Alolan vulpix, and glalie). Unless the room was a veritable sauna, this should not be possible at a homeostatically sustainable body temperature. Either this was a misremembered detail or a blatant scientific aberration. 

When the litwick family preys upon the living, destabilization of their victim's lifeforce disrupts spiritual energy currents corresponding to bioelectrical nervous pathways. The hypothalamic thermoregulatory pathways, in particular, seem to be affected early on. Thus, if the victim of a NSE-based attack looks and behaves like they have hypothermia, they probably do; shivering, slow brain activity, bradycardia (eventually leading to ventricular fibrillation and asystole), the whole deadly lot. 

The pokemon also expose their prey to undulating patterns of flame designed to induce hypnosis. However, I am fairly certain Keros was not exhibiting predatory behavior. Though Dr. Skye did appear both freezing and entranced, she displayed almost none of the hypothermic symptoms associated with an attack and emerged from this state without a trace of lethargy, confusion, or distress (aside from pondering the origin of Sofia’s blankets). Furthermore, Keros also entered the entranced state. It has been proven impossible for members of the litwick family to hypnotize themselves or each other. 

Sofia’s report of “flames swirling around on the ceiling” also caught my attention. These pokemon project their flames outwards for a variety of reasons. 1. When attacking. 2. When threatening an offender or defending themselves. 3. When sharing lifeforce. 4. When emphasizing expressions in Fire-Sign. 5. Because they feel like it (litwick, lampent, and chandelure are curious and intelligent beings, so attempting to coax their flames into novel shapes is only natural). 

I must outrule offensive and defensive measures. If Keros wanted to harm Dr. Skye, she would be dead. In addition, if a powerful pokemon (even her own) had expressed aggression, I doubt Julianne would have just sat there and taken it like an idiot. Sharing also seems ludicrous, as exchanging lifeforce with a creature of such mass and extreme spiritual negativity would be suicidal for any human (and all but a handful of pokemon). Furthermore, humans do not possess enough spiritual awareness and dexterity to manipulate their lifeforce for purposes of sharing. Finally, I cannot imagine Feliks observing something so dangerous without ferocious intervention. Therefore, I find it most probable that Keros was simply extending his flame to allow more expressive liberty in this private moment with his trainer. 

Still, I cannot help but recall a disturbing incident that took place around 40 years ago in Sinnoh. It involved a cult whose members purposefully allowed themselves to become possessed by a spiritomb. At that time, the cult was discovered and disbanded after one member came to a particularly unpleasant and public end. The authorities had the pokemon exorcized. Dr. Skye actually wrote on the subject, as she spent time in the region studying spiritomb a few months after her observations of the beldum family. Here is an excerpt regarding the biology of the pokemon… 

“Amongst the rare polyspiritual entities in this world, spiritomb are exceptional. They are amalgamation of malevolent souls, forcefully bound to a keystone. Though each soul is distinct, they employ pooled lifeforce as a means of communication, much as the litwick family does while sharing. Thus, spiritomb is the first confirmed case of permanent spiritual fusion between ghosts. This being said, they bear more similarity to the likes of the metang and metagross than zweilous, duosion, and dodrio. Yet, unlike the beldum family, their spiritual structure has no bioelectrical parallel and is marked by more defined and inflexible organization. 

Spiritomb can be considered a composite of 108 interconnected units, each composed of three structures; a soul, the lifeforce binding it to the keystone (physical anchor), and the pooled lifeforce binding it to adjacent souls. The lifeforce associated with the physical anchor and the lifeforce associated with neighboring souls differs energetically, and, as a result, remains separate. This situation is entirely unique. In metang and metagross all four souls are bound to their anchor by a single connection. Instead, spiritomb has 108 such connections, and thus, a few can be severed without destroying the entity. In this way, spiritomb is afforded the seamless synergy of the beldum family and the resilience of zweilous, duosion, and dodrio in the event of limited dissociation. 

This formidable ghostly hivemind is able to coordinate a collective will and act simultaneously like an ensemble of expert musicians. It is possible, though, to disrupt their harmony. The lifeforce connecting adjacent souls is markedly more fragile and dispersed than that binding the keystone. Attacks targeting these connections specifically can wreak havoc on communication throughout spiritomb’s macrostructure, rendering the ghost uncoordinated and insensible. For this reason, a spiritomb in battle must be especially wary of dextrous ghosts, specializing in the manipulation of lifeforce." 

And another excerpt regarding the infamous Sinnoh cult…

“The pokemon intended to incorporate the souls of living humans into its hivemind, in an effort to expand its power and gain a puppet with which to infiltrate society. However, possessions were often short-lived due to their tremendously detrimental side effects. Few cultists survived to see the end of their organization. 

Like dear Keros, spiritomb are large, negative spirits. Though their average energy level is hundreds of meS lower, it is still enough to destabilize human lifeforce and induce dangerously low body temperatures after prolonged exposure. The remaining cultists experienced hypothermic symptoms, PTSD, and on and off spiritual dissociation events for the rest of their brief lives. ”

Considering Dr. Skye’s scrutiny of these events I couldn’t help but wonder if she might have performed NSE experiments on herself with Keros. After acknowledging the harrowing results in Sinnoh, it seems odd that she would dare replicate them. Surviving cultists were severely damaged after their interactions with the spiritomb. The human nervous system is unadapted to polyspiritualism and those attempting to force it suffered like a basculin left to flop on the beach. Moreover, the type of possession that occurred within the cult would be impossible with a chandelure. Spiritual dissociation would occur immediately and completely, obliterating the human involved.

Regardless, Dr. Skye’s simultaneous trance with Keros and her alarmingly aberrant body temperature convince me that some variety of NSE phenomenon took place. I just can’t figure out what or how. In the hundreds of publications, letters, and journal entries I have read, Dr. Skye never mentions this so-called meditation. Sofia is the only known witness, but I don't take her for a liar. 

Julianne was so obsessed with her pokemon that she kept records of even their most frivolous bits of trivia. Seriously, you can go online and find out much fur Feliks shed each year down to the hundredth of a kilogram. If Julianne didn’t leave records of these meditations, it is not because she didn’t find them worth documenting. It’s because she didn’t want people to know. 

For someone who offered so much knowledge to humanity, it’s remarkable how much she concealed. From the get go, I knew Julianne was secretive, but the extent to which she buried her personal life, even from friends and family, astounds me. I don't think the scientist ever intended to hurt her brother or her student. In fact, I think she desired quite the opposite. 

Nonetheless, the secrecy and unpredictability of her actions seemed to worry Sofia until the final crushing grief and panic of her disappearance. I admire Sofia’s strength in speaking to me on these matters. When we love someone, we make ourselves vulnerable to them. They can hurt us via malice in ways that no else is capable of; the sting of betrayal. What’s more, they can hurt us entirely by accident. We are faced, not only by our own mortality and fallibility, but theirs as well. That, above all, is truly terrifying. 

For example, unless I die young, I will probably outlive Clarisse and Baron; a thought that reeks of misery to come. Sofia, having achieved a ripe old age, has lost so many to circumstance. Julianne and her pokemon too were broken when Milo died. Unfezant rarely exceed 40 years, and he was no exception. He was felled by cerebral apoplexy mid-flight. Thus, even surviving the stroke, the crash would have taken his life. 

Gemma, a fierce and lively pokemon, was said to have nearly expired from grief. Dr. Skye struggled to reignite her enthusiasm for anything. Glaring species difference aside, Milo had endeared himself to Gemma as a mate. He constructed nests around them as she slept, performed elaborate courtship dances, and sought to preen her endlessly, despite the lack of feathers. In return, the scolipede presented him with spoils of the hunt and endeavored to impress him with great feats of strength. Often, Milo perched between her mighty horns and flew beside her as she raced across open terrain. Unbeknownst to either, their natural lifespans differed by several decades. Gemma was destined to lose him. 

Dr. Skye herself became inconsolable for a while. Milo had been steadfastly beside her since the age of 10; her friend, her wings, protecting one another in adversity and stealing pretzels from her backpack all the while. Having examined Dr. Skye’s life, this death can be marked as a definite turning point. After escaping the grip of depression, Julianne returned to work with unmatched intensity. According to John Skye, after Milo’s passing, his sister developed “a thinly veiled desperation, always stirring underneath. She worked like there was stopwatch ticking and, at any moment, someone would take it all away.” 

I feel that way about this case sometimes. The longer Dr. Skye’s story remains shrouded in mystery, the more of it dissipates, eroded by the ceaseless winds of history. Sofia posited one potential solution, which sickens me to consider. If Julianne was, in fact, contacting beheeyem, were they her killers? 

Even a large group would be hard pressed to take the trainer down. Julianne conveniently possessed all three of the psychic types’ weaknesses on her team in the form of a well trained scolipede (bug), zoroark (dark), and chandelure (ghost). In addition, Keros’, as a majority spiritual entity, had no nervous tissue for a beheeyem to manipulate. They would be forced to employ other varieties of psychic attack outside of their specialized niche. The chandelure, on the other hand, would be comfortably in his element, incinerating them. It would be unwise to stage an attack against the trainer unless they could catch her alone and vulnerable. Furthermore, Dr. Skye’s last known location was marked in Aspertia City, far from the beheeyem’s territory. They might have sent agents to destroy her, but, otherwise, an encounter with that species would be highly unlikely. Still, I cannot completely rule them out as suspects. 

To know more, I must discern what occurred during this alleged rendezvous. Dr. Skye was in her 50s when she began venturing out in the desert (shortly after Milo’s death). According to Sofia, this was also the age at which her meditation habit began. Coincidence or not, it is curious indeed. However, until new evidence appears or new insight emerges from the previous documents, I’m stuck; stuck on two fronts. Somewhere in the sun scorched wastes and the dim, dreary depths, answers await. Somehow, I must find a way to reach them. 

For now, though, I think it’s time I indulged my dear team. Reminiscing with Sofia on our pokemon has inspired me. Baron will appreciate a few fresh poffins while we stream the new season of “Princess Tentacool.” Vivi will probably just appreciate screeching and flapping with the theme song and Clarisse might embroider the hotel comforter. Hopefully they'll be grateful enough not to fine us for destruction of property (and eardrums). Still, we’ll all have a grand evening (morning) one way or another.


	18. May 25th, 20:31, The Second Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 25th, 20:31, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
I had another strange dream last night. Thankfully, it wasn’t quite so traumatizing as the one before. You’d think falling asleep to the sound of waves and the scent of the sea would induce a serene slumber. Apparently not. Eager as I am regarding my research, perhaps it stirs a certain restlessness. Clarisse worries, though, unlike my mother, doesn’t attempt to dissuade me from my work. Thank Arceus for that. 

Returning to my dream, the setting appeared to be an attic of sorts, decorated with lovely lanterns and rife with clutter; papers, books, glassware, all manner of odds and ends. Once again, I was a younger version of myself, not older than eight or nine. In the dim, flickering light, I sat beside another child. The girl and I fiddled with little wooden balls and sticks, like the molecular modeling kit once given to me as a birthday gift. Her hair was wild and black and her eyes a blazing blue, almost turquoise. 

I cannot remember all that she said. However, a few pieces of our conversation remain, as I wrote them down soon after waking. She questioned why I had come and if I were a messenger from her brother and sister. I replied that neither she nor her siblings were familiar to me. The girl then asked how she might aid my soul in returning to the realm beyond the veil. I took this to mean that she thought me among the dead; a ghost. Upon insisting that I was, in fact, living, she advised me that denial of death was futile, and that this behavior was a destructive coping mechanism. She wished to speak to her brother and sister, and claimed that I stood in their place. Thus, the child bade me return to the door or whatever earthly anchor bound my spirit instead of invading the dreams of others. 

Frustrated, I declared that it couldn’t be an invasion if it was my own dream. She bared a set of alarmingly sharp teeth and warned that, if I were a malicious spirit or psychic, come to threaten her, this would end poorly. The creator of the dream, possessed of terrible power, would destroy me. Finally, the child said, in a tone both ominous and forlorn, that, if I had any sense, I would not come back. 

With that, the girl faded and the lanterns began to flash and overflow. Again, frightful fire consumed the room, but this time the flames didn’t touch me. They simply moved, bright and cold. As the dream concluded, there was a final sibilant voice. The hiss and roar of the blaze somewhat muted their speech. However, If I am not mistaken, the words “come back” were uttered. 

Of course, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like shit. At least I wasn’t hyperventilating like the night before. Clarisse, my hero, brought a few packets of hot chocolate mix from the hotel lobby. Normally, I prefer tea (hot cocoa, especially the cheaper fare, is far too sweet for my palate). Last night, though, it was definitely the right choice; the ideal comfort drink. 

It was also the ideal temperature. I think Vivi’s been pecking at the thermostat. Honestly, what hasn’t that little miscreant pecked? My shoelaces are shredded and my xtransceiver screen cracked. She also used to have an issue with flicking the lights on and off like some impudent three year old, but I finally trained her out of that. This time, I woke feeling as though I were in a meat locker, and turned it up a few degrees before going back to bed. Later, the environment was comparable to a slugma colony and, lo and behold, the thermostat was on freaking 30 degrees celsius. Vivi and I are going to have a talk (or I’m going to talk and she’s going to chirp innocently while plotting her next misadventure). 

In more productive news, Sofia sent me another message, which I have attached here….

To Aidan Rode,  
I’m glad I agreed to an interview with you. I think it’s done me some good. We finally cracked open some old photo albums and the pokemon really appreciated it. Donut, Mimi, and Ember hadn’t looked at their beloved trainer’s face for over three years. The chance to see Johnny and reflect on all the good times they shared was moving for them. I wish you could have seen the glow of Donut’s crystals and Ember’s excited puffs of smoke. Also, I’d almost forgotten how much ridiculous neckwear Professor Cypress had. I think the swoobat-print tie takes the cake. 

Anyway, I did some digging and found the address of the old beach house we shared back then; 16 Seamyrtle Lane. I’m not sure if the same realtors still own the place, but the number I’ve got is 401-787-1909. Johnny and I actually rented the house out for a few summers when we got older. His kids loved it and Julie came to visit often. During the first few months after her disappearance, I checked the place for any clues. It was a nostalgic location for us, so I thought Julie might have left something, rental or not. Maybe you want to give it a go. 

In some ways, it was a crappy building; cramped bathrooms, full of sand with showers that spat cold water when we least expected it, dim, flickering lights (that Keros only made worse with his ghostly aura), and an overcompensating refrigerator that froze our orange juice solid. Julie made the choice because it was one of the few on the market with a piano. If she wanted to finish her big opera, a keyboard was a must. Sometimes she played at night until Johnny went and threw a sandal at her. I liked it, though. It’s nice falling asleep to the sound of music, especially that slow aria The Altruist sings. The Hysteric and The Id’s duet was kind of freaky, which I suppose was the point. 

Crappy or not, it was a home to me, at least for a few months. If you do get the chance to go, look for a small house in the dunes, porch overgrown with beachgrass, the most obnoxious shade of peeling bubblegum paint. Last time I was there, Johnny and I flung a few bottles on the roof (empty bottles, if that explains our state of mind). Let me know if anything’s still up there. Take care and good luck.  
-The honorable Sofia Mori 

The letter came with a photograph; Sofia, John, and Julianne gathered on the beach with all of their pokemon. There are quite a few remarkable photos of Dr. Skye and her team (I should know, they were on my wall throughout childhood). I’ve seen shots of her playing the tremendous opening chords of The Eliara Cello Concerto, directing her mighty pokemon in the heat of battle, and deep within the trance of studious concentration. Yet, this photo is possessed of a quiet, softly radiant joy that exceeds all else. For once the momentum and intensity gave way to contentedness and vulnerability. This is a picture of love. Insectoid features aside, I see the same in Clarisse’s face when she gazes on Baron, on Vivi, and on me. 

Tomorrow, I’ll revisit Alomomola Scuba Shoppe and report my findings on spiritual currents to Matt and Kato. Hopefully, Kato’s not too devastated that he enabled Dr. Skye in her perilous law-breaking schemes. I’ve also called the realtor about the beach house and, thankfully, no one’s demolished the place. I’ll soon pick up a key and examine the property. If nothing else, I’ll be able to play the piano upon which Dr. Skye composed The Masquerade. If I’m lucky, I might even play well. 

Of course the company believes I’m a prospective renter for next summer (slightest twinge of guilt there). A few weeks ago I was wrapping my backpack straps in duct tape and searching for new boots at the thrift store. Even with the new paycheck, beachfront summer homes are a bit beyond my budget. In the meantime, I’ll be using said budget to purchase Baron unreasonable amounts of water ice from the icecream truck (Ha! You’ve been thwarted, lactose intolerance), and answering pokegear calls from confused physicists on how to properly calibrate my NSEmeters.


	19. May 26th, 22:03, From Beneath the Staircase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 26th, 22:03, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
Today has been most extraordinary. After exchanging theories with Kato and Matt (during which time Clarisse charmed the inscrutable Bubbles and Vivi fell into their pool), I made my way to the realtors. There, I received the key to that old house by the shore. Finding the place was no easy task for the nearby roads were poorly maintained; swept with sand and overgrown with beachgrass. Bless Baron’s keen vision, without which we might not have spotted our destination. 

The house itself, though small, would have been excellent waterfront property if not for its dilapidation. Sofia’s description was accurate, if not generous. The building's a salt encrusted jungle, wrapped in peeling pink paint. I’m quite shocked it’s still on the market for rent. 

That’s not to say it wasn’t wonderful in a dingy, nostalgic sort of way. It was the place where extraordinary people lived and worked; extraordinary people who composed the mythos of my life’s passion. Lo and behold, Clarisse even managed to scale the roof and discovered shards of long-forgotten bottles. Sofia will be pleased. 

The interior smelt of dust, mildew, and, of course, the sea. The piano remained, though its tuning did not. Admittedly, I played anway. Perhaps it was horrific, tonally speaking. Still, to have the instrument upon which a masterpiece was composed in front of me and abstain from playing would have been a heinous crime against music. Even Vivi participated (ran across the keyboard). 

At risk of sounding like an unhinged fanboy, I couldn’t help but attempt to envision what this place must have been while inhabited. Did Dr. Skye spread her sheet music across the dining table, sipping cocoa with John? Is that impression in the couch cushions from Bailey and Arren lounging about like enormous lapdogs? When Keros floated through the halls, what dappled, flickering shadows did he cast upon these walls? Could that crooked window frame be the work of Rukka’s claws or Gemma’s horns? Who could say, but it’s fun to imagine. 

My investigation of the house was thorough. As a kid, I played hide and seek with Luca and our pokemon almost every day. I’ve never been one for confrontation, hence the lackluster battle career. However, that’s not to say I lack the determination of a competitive spirit. For me, victory in hide and seek was not to be the last one found. It was for the seekers to give up hope completely and forfeit the game in a fit of frustration and despair. Good hiding and good seeking go hand in hand. Thus, I possess confidence in my ability to tear apart a house in search of its secrets. 

Interestingly enough, a bit of tearing was necessary. Vivi and Baron were chasing each other up and down the stairs. Just as I was about to scold them, I noticed something quite peculiar. One of the stair treads produced a different sound; an almost hollow thud. Taking a shot in the dark, we pried up the stair and discovered a compartment (had we not, the embarrassment would’ve eaten me alive). 

Within was a treasure trove; original, unseen documents. This is more than I ever could have hoped. Additionally, a bizarre surprise waited alongside Dr. Skye’s papers; an unidentifiable piece of metal, a newspaper, and a suspicious lack of dust. The metal bit was a small circle of brass, almost like a cap, aside from the hole in the middle. I don't know what it is, but I intend to find out. 

The newspaper and lack of dust suggest something exciting, and perhaps the slightest bit alarming. This paper described a power outage in Undella Town. Wicked summer and autumn storms pass through often enough, so that’s hardly abnormal. What demanded attention was the date; two weeks ago. Someone has been here since Julianne’s death, and recently. What’s more, they may have taken something from the stash of documents. Whether this individual(s) is a delinquent breaking in for kicks, a fellow investigator, or something else entirely, I’m unsure. There’s truly no way to tell. Nonetheless, I am grateful for the documents I was able to retrieve...

A partial journal entry from Julianne’s coaching of John and Sofia…

My brother’s zebstrika is an absolute ass. I admit his tenacity is an admirable quality but, nonetheless, insufferable. I am positive he desired to electrocute me. I am also positive that Keros now desires to devour his soul. If my dear chandelure witnesses Sparky attempting harm again, I am certain it will end in a fiery blaze of ghostly retribution and Johnny’s horrified tears. After all, Keros is also an asshole, and makes no pretense otherwise. 

Therefore, I must endeavor to correct the behavior swiftly. Sparky possesses little to no sense of self-preservation, as has been demonstrated in his disregard of Keros’ ire. However, he has displayed a fondness and almost worshipful reverence for Gemma. Milo’s flustered posturing, intended to intimidate potential romantic rivals, is further evidence for this theory. 

Perhaps it would be prudent to assign my scolipede as a training partner. Pokemon who resist human intervention often learn eagerly alongside one another. From the perspective of the zebstrika, Gemma’s acquiescence to my guidance will solidify my leadership position in the herd. Frail human or not, to disrespect me is, thus, to disrespect all those under my command, including the scolipede he extols. 

Establishing my place as mentor and leader, it will then be necessary to elevate my brother. Sparky occasionally listens to Johnny out of affection, retained from his days as a blitzle. Nevertheless, evolution unveils ambition and fury in zebstrika. Sparky evolved hardly a week ago. In the wild, their initial course is often to challenge existing herd leaders, usually to be thwarted. Johnny cannot withstand the violent physical advances of a large, electrically charged equine. Therefore, he must meet the challenge psychologically. 

Regardless of Sparky’s intimidation and escalation tactics, my brother must remain unmoved. He cannot retreat or cower lest it be taken as weakness and a forfeit of command. He cannot show aggression or it will be taken as an invitation to outright competition (battle), which he will surely lose. Instead, Johnny should remain firm and calm, enforcing his rule through other loyal pokemon. Bailey, the strong and experienced voice of reason on his team, should suffice. 

I expect this to be a difficult task for my brother as he is gentle and compromising by nature. Even now, he yields to me as in youth and prefers to address problems without confrontation. The logic of a zebstrika will seem brutal and unkind to him. Unfortunately, Sparky will accept nothing else. Johnny must realize that this behavior and his response has nothing to do with lack of love, merely hierarchy. Sparky would care for him regardless of his position in the herd. However, Johnny, as trainer, cannot afford to relinquish command and his zebstrika will not resent, but respect him, for this harshness and fortitude. 

Different species simply require different strategies for training. If I were to treat my chandelure as anything less than equal, he would despise me. Feliks regards me as a leader, not because I am powerful, but because I raised him and have proven myself wise, fair, and capable in his eyes. Within Zebstrika herds, however, equality is a nonexistent concept and a compromising leader is a weak leader. Each must establish their place in strict order or the herd feels restless and unsafe. 

Sofia, on the other hand, has no issue establishing her dominance, but struggles to inspire unity and kinship within her team. She would do well, not only to train them together, but to make time for leisure together. Her pokemon play with their trainer but (with a few marked exceptions) view one another in a largely professional sense. Play is a valuable behavior in social pokemon. It serves as a safe, low-pressure way to practice and experiment with offensive, defensive, and evasive techniques. It also serves as a means to induce heightened friendship and understanding between playmates. 

The sad truth is that the pokemon of many excellent trainers, especially those with rapid progression, are often stunted socially. In species with multiple evolutionary stages, first evolutions are often referred to as juvenile or even “baby” pokemon. Species like mareep seek refuge, grazing, and romping under the guidance and protection of flocks led by dominant ampharos. Zorua mature much like human children, under the devoted care of their parents and close-knit communities. Endowed with such lengthy lifespans, they usually remain in this state for many decades before evolving and rising to the mantle of adulthood. 

In captivity, with the strict regimen of a competitive trainer, newborn mareep evolve in months, zorua in a few short years. Their bodies mature, rife with adult hormonal cues, and their powers often outstrip those of even their most experienced wild counterparts. 

However, they are ultimately still children within; children who have grown and changed with startling rapidity, estranged from their kind, and often deprived of play in exchange for unwavering discipline. A great trainer may accept this and succeed in the league. A good trainer, with love for their team and aspirations for their happiness, must commit to mitigating this fate. Pokemon are not machines. 

Sofia has the potential to be a good and great trainer. They are not mutually exclusive concepts. The greatest of all are those who have found the delicate balance. Their teams function with efficiency, harmony, and unmatched passion. To achieve this, Sofia, in all her determination, must, not only allow her pokemon their childhood, but allow herself the childhood that perhaps evaded her.  


Alongside her intense training, I shall direct my pupil to arrange for periods of unadulterated fun. Sofia will think me mad. Yet, against the softening influences of Johnny, Rukka, and Allegra, resistance will erode and she and her pokemon shall succumb to unbridled exuberance.

Notes following Dr. Skye’s interactions with a wild litwick colony… 

As our exchange with the litwick colony concludes, I am overcome by contemplation. The principal trio of lampent displayed an openness and hospitality seldom encountered even amongst my own species. Though it was evident a minority of litwick protested our presence, they dared not do more than express their displeasure in Fire Sign. Mind you, these are entities declared impossible to reason with; malicious, remorseless predators and enemies to all living creatures. 

They are also outcasts. Their birth is the rage, fear, and grief of a traumatic death manifested. Litwick materialize with no small degree of unpleasant sentiment and that the world wishes their destruction does not ease this baleful burn. Newborn and weak, their only source of solace and serenity can be found in one another; the colony. They are bound by mutual vulnerability and animosity for all else upon this earth. Lampent sometimes abandon their pre-evolutions in search of strength and independence, for they are experienced and no longer susceptible to frequent attack. Many, however, remain to lead, mentor, and defend their kin. The rare chandelure, unfortunately, are usually rendered so wicked and unstable by power and their long, miserable afterlife, that they care not for anyone (even former allies). 

Keros, remarkably young and amicable for a chandelure, was a novelty to them. Feliks and I, a zoroark and human with comprehension of Fire Sign, were an even greater surprise. As a precaution, I decided not to introduce the rest of my team. Gemma, in particular, would have been liable to startlement and potential aggression. 

Yet, somehow, these ghosts, with their innate hatred and instinctual desire to devour lifeforce, welcomed us. They saw, in us, kinship and I am grateful for their kind is often one of the ultimatums. You are either a friend, to be cherished, or a foe, to be feared and, if possible, annihilated. Neutrality isn’t an option. Keros makes a valiant effort at it, though. 

Our time with the colony elicited some realizations that dwell heavily on the mind. Keros knows little of his own species’ society. After manifestation, he joined ranks with a small group of nomadic litwick who, shortly thereafter, faced destruction at the hands of ghost hunters. Even in grievous defeat, litwick will eventually recover from most damage. Only a smidgen of their physical anchor is required to bind their spirit in its strength. However, professional hunters are accompanied by ghost and dark types, capable of spiritual attacks. They possess the ability to eliminate their quarry, permanently. 

Evading the threat, Keros then spent decades in solitude, his next friendly interaction with me. Therefore, he never experienced the rich cultural heritage of his kind. His mentorship under other litwick was brief and inadequate. In fact, never once did Keros perform traditional fire dances or share lifeforce among his brethren. 

Luckily, much knowledge is innate to litwick upon manifestation. For example, their natural, resting state entails an undamped aura. This automatically destabilizes and draws lifeforce from nearby organisms. Dampening, on the other hand, requires effort and is learned via either instruction or individual experimentation. The ability to hypnotize prey and fluency in Fire Sign are also present upon manifestation. This is not to say that hypnotic capabilities cannot be refined and litwick dialects cannot develop. Some colonies are hundreds, even thousands of years old. Linguistic innovation was inevitable. 

Thus, I am thrilled to declare that Keros has found an opportunity to learn that which he has been deprived of. Once, we introduced Feliks to a zoroark clan deep within the woods. My dear companion was taken from their wild family shortly after birth by criminals, normally infamous for stealing captive pokemon. As such, their pokeballs were confiscated. Feliks’ kin were never found. They came to me through The Unovan Pokemon Rescue Association, where I volunteered as a child. During our visit with the zoroark clans, Feliks found education and some degree of closure regarding their tumultuous infancy and stolen heritage. Now, Keros has likewise claimed his culture. Despite boasting more raw spiritual ability and mass than any of the colony, the leading lampent have provided invaluable guidance and the litwick, companionship. 

I am aware that Keros adores me above all else. He has demonstrated such in speech and action time and time again. Still, I cannot help but wish I had given him this satisfaction long ago. I wish I could be to him as his own kind are. So little of a chandelure’s perception and experience is physical. As ghosts, theirs is the spiritual realm and, though I study it with passion and diligence, I have only meager vision and influence of its workings. I cannot see. I cannot share. Someday, I will die and have no say in where or how my imprint manifests. Most souls drift beyond the veil, abandoning this plane of existence forever. 

I wonder, what will become of my pokemon, my family, when this happens? All but Milo and, perhaps, Gemma will probably exceed me in life. Assuming they feel but half of my devotion, it shall shatter them. Of course, they will not stagnate and suffer eternally. My team is fierce, powerful, and beloved of one another. Keros is as much a leader as myself. Feliks, though they do not always realize it, is possessed of such qualities as well. I also cannot fathom Johnny and Sofia standing idle in the face of their friend’s distress. Together, my pokemon would live and joy would flourish, even in my absence. 

For a time, anyway. Incrementally, they would all succumb and shed their mortal coil. First Milo, then Gemma, Johnny, Sofia, Allegra, Rukka, and finally, Feliks. Over centuries, they would perish until only one remained; Keros. He would bear the burden of their lives and deaths, unable to naturally expire. 

Such is immortality. I sense Keros likes these litwick and lampent. Love, however, is another matter. Within this colony, there is an undercurrent of subtle, comforting trust and camaraderie. They appreciate one another and revel in mutual purpose and resentment of their adversaries. Yet, none among them shall know the fervor of mortal love. In frightful acknowledgement of their brevity, the living cling and claw for they see themselves and all they treasure wane and waste. It is an explosive love, like a shimmering firework aflame in the firmament; it bursts forth with spectacular beauty then fades to smoke, extinguished in darkness.

If Keros and I had not met, where would he be now? Exorcized in his first evolution? Rampaging homicidally across Unova? Would he have ever gained the boon of friendship? I know not. 

I do know, however, that he is afraid. His love defies his ghostly nature, embrittling his emotional future. He fears the loneliness that awaits. I fear I have cursed him, in our friendship, to know the anguish of loss. To taste sweetness, followed by a shock of bitterness, makes sensation all the more poignant. 

Yet, what can I do? I am no match for death. Even if I were to drown myself in supposedly restorative telomerase, I would simply produce a seething mass of cancer. Until this moment, I lived freely, content with my fare. I would study, love, and fight until that final night descended, claiming me as it has humanity for ages. Now, my fight seems to be with dread night itself. We all make an enemy of the inevitable and strive to win battles against our awesome adversary. Only a fool aspires to win the war. Perhaps I am a fool. 

Early sketches from the libretto of Dr. Skye’s opera, The Masquerade (I trembled with excitement upon finding these) … 

Oh how I love the masquerade  
The dance we all attend  
With gleaming eyes and swirling skirts  
Where everyone makes pretend  
Oh how I love the masquerade  
The thrill of secret smiles  
Of waltzing shadows and candlelight  
That leaves every masquer beguiled  
The artistry of expression  
Of hands, lips, shoulders, and brows  
The taste of wine and blood and salt  
While the orchestra takes its bows  
Oh how I love the masquerade  
The game played day by day  
With rules that were written in smoke and dew  
So no one quite knows the way 

Song of The Child --- I rise like a snowdrop from the frost of bitter March; to push and prod my bud through stinging rime to a world of crisp delight; white as a canvas, marked only by possibility of spring; spring within me, oh curiosity. I wield a bouquet of markers and scrawl a destiny, insensible and beautiful to see. Here is the flame of fascination that melts the winter’s stagnant slush away. Oh wonder; wild and fierce and tender, rendered in the embers of the forge I call my heart. Behold the world; all the faces at the masquerade; all the hands and smiles and stories. All the stories I might hear and things I’ll learn to be. Behold the masquers dancing. Let me waltz with them and dream. Tell me your story, oh strange and lovely face. Tell me your story, stranger, friend. Let me laugh and weep and love and learn by your words. Let the stories never end.

If you take off your mask, pick up another quick  
For when you’re wearing nothing, well, the nothing starts to stick  
It seeps into your skin and slithers down your throat  
And strangles all the voices that are desperate to emote  
But if you wear these masks and set these voices free  
To keep the world from learning that you lack identity  
Just be prepared to drown in their grand cacophony  
For each of us is sure to cadence in a different key 

I’m not certain what this is, but it’s quite poetic. Another bit of brainstorming for an opera? Perhaps simply a flight of momentary inspiration?

One lonely morning in the misty drizzle, serendipity seeped amongst those dreary graves and drew us together at the garden gate. With inevitable gravity, we fell. Since that day, we have been destined, in synchronous orbit, to someday collide; our harmony at once strange and splendid. Yet, I am ephemeral and you immortal, our bodies and minds mournfully inverse; alien in form. Still, bound in love, I would do and give all for you; plunge to abyssal depths, soar to cosmic heights. There is no trial too terrible to undertake. No sacrifice I would not eagerly lay at the lacrimal altar. You have stolen my soul and I have stolen yours. Someday, I will be called to depart and thus take your fragile heart that, removed, shall leave a dismal void of dread. Therefore, I must resist the mortal fate that binds my kind in fearful unity. I make one final sacrifice in the name of love; my humanity.


	20. May 27th, 04:41, The Third Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from my endeavor.

May 27th, 04:41  
This morning has been complete and utter flaming tepigshit and the sun isn’t even up yet. My wallet is missing and, as if life weren’t complicated enough, I might now be a target for dream manipulating assholes; most likely a psychic or ghost type. If not, I’m either possessed of a sick and freakishly consistent imagination or something terrible is out to get me. 

The string of unfortunate events that led me here to write at death o’clock in the morning began with another nightmare. I don’t always dream and, since reaching adulthood, I rarely remember them. Yet, I now recall three consecutive nights where, stranger still, there exists a thread of continuity While the first was harrowing and the second, peculiar and frustrating, the latest evokes a curiosity and dread seldom matched. 

My vision lingers in alarming clarity. Once again, my body was a child's. I was somewhere dark and cold; buoyant within a passageway of stonework. The only illumination came from a familiar flame that crept along the walls and swirled about a center of writhing shadow. Yet, within its core, a circle of gold watched, ardent and ominous. This was a conscious entity; the very same that had seized my wrist two nights ago. Then, it spoke and its voice was a burning hiss. 

“Don’t be afraid,” it told me. “I will not touch you again.” When I inquired as to why it attacked me in the first place, the thing had the audacity to deem my agony accidental. It claimed to be desperate because I was leaving. Supposedly, the creature had built a place for dreamers to commune, which required sending part of itself through the veil (between here and the spirit world). This, understandably, is an exhausting process that cannot be repeated indefinitely. I asked if this being was among the dead and, receiving an affirmative reply, asserted that it must belong beyond the veil. It countered that I, of all people, should be well aware of exceptions. 

It went on to insist that we needed each other (we being myself, my harasser, and another). The other dreamer can’t complete their task alone and, according to this fiery thing, neither can I. The spirit world had weakened it for “the veil takes. It takes names, memories, and will.” 

Still, I demanded to know exactly why it wanted to cross to the side of the living. For strength? For revenge? How could I be certain it wasn’t a monster? I had felt its overwhelming hatred for myself. The reply was both chilling and poignant; “can a monster not also love?” I repeat its parting words, uncertain of my course. “The other dreamer rejects you here, but I shall deliver them in flesh. It will cost me much and force my silence for a time. I implore you, help us.” 

The dream then concluded, not in fire, but inky black. The flames faded and, suddenly, I realized the passageway was underwater. I was blind; drowning, unable to tell up from down, and woke, cold, breathless, and heaving as if to expel liquid from my lungs. What this means, I'm loath to consider. 

Part of me thinks it’s an awful prank. Some pokemon are known to deal in dreams. For example, six years ago, a mismagius convinced someone it was the soul of her deceased daughter, appearing as she slept. The mother performed absurd and, eventually, criminal acts at the ghost’s behest. Authorities found her slathered in sriracha in a pokemart restroom, wearing only a necklace of dried patrat bladders and shoplifted birthday cards. She claimed it was an attempt to revive her child. The mismagius needed no concrete reason for their elaborate and cruel deception. It was simply entertainment. 

Another instance involved a lonely elgyem, too shy to leave the abandoned warehouse where it lived. To compensate, it influenced humans and pokemon to sleepwalk during REM, leading them to its lair. There was no malicious intent, only longing for company. However, those interviewed expressed confusion and alarm upon regaining consciousness. One man said he had fallen asleep in bed, dreamt of walking his herdier, and woke up ten miles away. 

If my nightmares are the work of dream manipulators, I must quickly determine their intentions. Is this an innocent prank gone wrong; a misunderstanding? Is it something more twisted? I also question what species would or could inflict such terror, purposefully or not. Munna and musharna only absorb the bioelectrical output of dreams, not induce them. Zoroark, gothitelle, and elgyem are generally too benevolent for something of this nature unless there's a grudge. Mismagius would be a prime suspect if only they were native to Unova. Perhaps a hotel guest or villa resident from overseas has one? I could ask around. 

The only other option outside impossibly rare legendaries is beheeyem. As far as potential candidates go, this is by far the worst case scenario. They are certainly capable of fashioning nightmares and would have no moral qualms about unleashing them. If I am their chosen victim, worse could be coming. Playtime with beheeyem isn’t over until their toys are broken. 

It would be a horrific coincidence. They’re already tentative suspects for the murder of my hero. Now, they might be the architects of my own demise. Perhaps I’m too paranoid. I have little evidence to suggest their involvement. Nonetheless, I find it prudent to take precautions. My team and I will now sleep in shifts; one of us awake and on guard during every hour of the night. If something is targeting me, they could easily turn their wrath on Clarisse, Baron, and Vivi too. In a world without pokemon, dreams would just be dreams. Reality is more complex than that. Negative ghostly auras elicit irregularities in the HPA axis. Psychics stimulate posterior cortical hotspots while we sleep. Strange forces are at work all around us and people like myself and Dr. Skye seek to know them. 

Which brings me to my final theory. What if that creature I spoke to were not merely a prop? What if it were truly trying to use me to cross fully into the physical world? That's almost more frightening than the prospect of beheeyem, for, if this is true, that entity possesses power, awareness, and dexterity the likes of which I have never encountered. 

From what spiritual physicists know of the mysterious veil between our world and the spirit world proper, it is generally permeable from only one direction. The dead easily cross over into the spirit world but can’t cross back. Likewise, the living, unless assisted, can't access the spirit world. Certain ghost type pokemon can bend these rules as they are denizens of the physical world with affinity for the spirit world. For a soul without a physical anchor to establish the smallest channel for consciousness through the veil entails an energetic expenditure of at least 5,000 meS. 

The creature in my dream repeated this three times to my knowledge. To those familiar with these units, 15,000 meS is the type of number that normally makes us laugh and recheck our calculations. No one just throws that type of spiritual energy around. Lunala and giratina, sure, but they’re in class by themselves. They’re also not actually dead, ghost typing aside. 

When that thing touched me, it felt like my life was ending. Whatever it is, however eloquently and sympathetically it speaks, it’s definitely dangerous. It also clearly knows about my background in spiritual physics (“you, of all people, should be aware of exceptions”), which is probably why it thought to contact me. 

What would Julianne have done? She had allies; strong pokemon, friends in academia and the league. She had experience navigating dire situations, sometimes almost impossibly so, and emerging victorious. She had determination bordering on madness. I have degrees from UNU and JC, a lot of paperwork, a potentially unhealthy obsession, and a team that’s never stepped foot in a gym. I suppose it’s a start. 

Dr. Skye had many enemies and trusted few. Yet, her trust and willingness to embrace the unknown was also one of her greatest assets. She could have fled from Keros when they met in the cemetery. She could have even reported him. Instead, she sought to understand him. Gemma came into her home completely uninvited to live underbeds and in walls; a pest. Some would’ve called an exterminator or ordered their pokemon to drive the venipede away. Julianne welcomed and befriended the invader. She was hospitalized, given anti-venom, in the process but eventually found a lifelong friend and protector. 

I don’t know what she would have done in my situation. Perhaps she would see a threat. Perhaps she would see an opportunity. Whether this is a ghost or psychic playing tricks or an actual eldritch abomination, I have no way of discerning yet. First, I must wait and see what, if anything, they meant by “I shall deliver [the other dreamer] in flesh.” Can they make good on that promise? Who is the other dreamer? Does "in flesh" mean "in person" or something I haven't deciphered yet? 

It must also consider the fact that this might be related, not only to my proficiency in spiritual physics, but my investigation of Dr. Skye. It's possible she engaged beheyeem in the desert, after all. Then again, my new fixation on beheeyem might be because of that. Arceus, it’s almost five o'clock. I might read this later and deem it the deranged product of sleep deprivation and hysteria. Sugar could also be involved. Clarisse has made me four cups of hot cocoa (thank you, Clarisse) since I fell, gasping, off the bed. I’m on my way to surpassing Dr. Skye’s daily average and I didn't even like the stuff until recently. 

I’m also growing exceedingly restless due to the absence of my wallet. An hour ago, I thought of heading downstairs to purchase chips from the vending machine. An hour later, I’ve torn my apart my room searching for some of the worst possible things to misplace besides my pokeballs and my head. Credit card, debit card, cash, insurance card, trainer license, UNSA ID, a freaking flash drive containing copies of every document involved in the investigation; gone. All I have left is my hotel keycard and 1,000 pokedollars. There are toothbrushes more expensive than that, and not even the fancy electric kind! 

The most infuriating bit is that I can’t imagine not bringing my wallet back with me. My gut says it should be in the room, even though Clarisse and I have searched the room more thoroughly than a sableye in a jewelry store. Undella town tends to attract a mixture of competitive trainers and well-to-do tourists. Though there’s always the risk of pickpockets at the shore, you’d think the lifeguard’s patrolling seismitoad would deter petty criminals. I also never left my possessions unattended. I came for a nice spot to work. Baron’s the one who wants to get pummeled by waves. 

The only explanation I can devise is that I unwittingly dropped it somewhere on the beach. Clarisse refuses to let me go out and backtrack until dawn. I admit, her decision has merit. The lifeguards are off duty and this is prime hunting time for eelektross and frillish. There was a report of an ambush only a few miles from here a couple of weeks ago. Some teenager was playing knee-deep in the surf one night when he was attacked. He got away with only some stitches and a contusion thanks to his well-trained krokorok. 

So, here I am, passing the time before I can dig through sand so I don’t have to cancel my credit card and explain my missing trainer license. Someone might be out to get me, copies of my research could be in anyone’s hands, and Vivi just vomited what I think was a hotel brochure into my shoe. Good morning, indeed.


	21. May 27th, 17:25, Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 27th, 17:25, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
The good news is that one crisis has been averted. I found my wallet, or rather, someone else did. I also scanned and forwarded the beachhouse documents to Sofia. The other news is not necessarily bad but certainly weird and somewhat concerning. It may prove a looming disaster, primed to explode in my face. It may also be the start of a fascinating friendship. Only time will tell. Hopefully, I simply manage to attract eccentric (but ultimately harmless) people and not living catastrophes. 

Beginning with the subject least likely to induce a headache, Sofia should be especially appreciative of the first uncovered document (regarding her summer training). She clearly lived up to her mentor’s expectations. Sofia Mori is and was a “great trainer” whose team “functions with efficiency, harmony, and unmatched passion.” Arren, the mighty butt-scooting arcanine, would agree. As for “allow[ing] herself...childhood,” Sofia embodies a youthful fervor, openness, and kindness, even in grief and old age. Moreover, she continually inspires students attending the Johto Battle Academy. 

As for the case of the disappearing wallet, it appears I’m not the only one who lost something today. This morning, the team and I checked the police station lost-and-found and made a report while Clarisse swooned over some officer’s sawsbuck. She has a thing for flora and those antlers sported some impressive May blossoms. 

We then proceeded to retrace our steps from yesterday. Shifting sand and rifling through beachgrass, I was startled by an unaccompanied maractus, camouflaged in the bush. What’s more, it was an unaccompanied maractus with my wallet. The relief was so overwhelming I nearly impaled myself attempting to hug the hero of the day. Maractus spikes aren’t terribly sharp but, with sufficient force, may inflict nasty triangular wounds. Surgeons despise those. 

After a brief celebration and unconscious flirting on Clarisse’s part (flowers, again) another inquiry arose. Maractus aren’t native to this part of Unova, so I assumed our new friend must have a trainer. Yet, ten minutes had elapsed and we were still alone. This came to an abrupt end when Felicia and her eelektross appeared, sprinting down the shoreline. 

If you’ve never witnessed an eelektross utilize their levitate ability, look it up. The sight is both supremely graceful and uncanny. Eelektross skin is lined with a conductive mucus and tiny diamaglev organs, allowing them to swim sinuously and silently through the air. Due to the effort involved, they resort to this method of locomotion primarily for three reasons; a) to avoid ground type attacks, b) to navigate rough terrain, and c) to cross distances at speed. An eelektross in rapid motion is extremely intimidating, as I’m now aware. 

Felicia, who, until this point, had been the epitome of teenage composure, was utterly distraught. She knelt before her maractus, keening like an injured floatzel (a familiar wail, courtesy of Sinnoh pokemon centers). The horrific, extraordinary expressions overtaking her face captured the essence of crying in the most primal, unfiltered way possible. Yet, no tear was shed; only strangled breaths and a broken litany of, “We couldn't find you. Why did you leave us? Don’t do that! Please, never again.” Finally, Felicia settled, trembling, with the maractus in her arms and the eelektross curled protectively round them both. 

Perhaps it’s wrong to leap to conclusions, but I think something sick and tragic happened to her. She lost someone, probably in a sudden and traumatic way. If Clarisse wandered off, of course I'd be anxious. Nevertheless, my leavanny is intelligent, well-trained, and a loyal friend. Unless she’d been gone for an unreasonable time, I’d expect her safely back. Felicia strikes me as a skilled trainer, beloved of her team. I can’t imagine her maractus wouldn’t have returned as well. This dramatic reaction suggests no small degree of internal anguish. 

In fact, a bit of that internal anguish almost manifested in aggression, misdirected at me. Teeth bared, accusation on her lips, Felicia whirled upon me with an almost feral anger, steeped in fear. There was a documentary I remember from childhood where a mother typhlosion defended her kits from an arbok. In this girl, I saw that same rage and devotion. By some miracle, we assured the incensed trainer that I had not pokenapped her maractus and avoided electrocution (or, otherwise, a solid blow from Felicia herself).Her flowery baby was simply off doing good deeds; aiding some numbskull who loses their stuff and may or may not have been wearing their shirt backwards. 

I didn’t anticipate encountering her again and certainly not like this. What occurred next, though, was even more astonishing. My UNSA ID had fallen in the sand and, as she bent to retrieve it, the trainer inquired as to my particular scientific field. When I disclosed my identity as a spiritual physicist, the girl paused for a moment. Then, as if a meowstic had raised its ears to unleash psychic torrents, she unleashed a torrent of fantastic queries. 

I am a nerd. My academic niche is, regrettably, miniscule. When someone expresses even a smidgen of interest or competency in said niche, my heart floats skyward like a hoppip on acid. Felicia offered more. She didn’t converse like someone who may have read an SP textbook. She sounded like she may have written one. 

They say all ace trainers know each other. All jazz drummers know each other. All eevee breeders know each other. The mystical interconnectedness of these small worlds is usually exaggerated. Spiritual physicists? We do all know each other (or, at least, of each other). It’s a new field and, if you’re in the game, you recognize each and every one of the players; their names, their affiliated universities, the irritating stylistic habits that show up in their journals. Felicia speaks like a major player but is bewilderingly alien to me. 

I also never expected to hear the words “oscillating mirror-matter ambiguity phenomena” from the mouth of what looked to be a sixteen year old. It’s like watching a deerling pull a truck. Eventually, the topic of my NSEmeter design came up and she regarded me with this quiet, appraising intensity; the same scrutiny I received right before she dragged my oblivious rear into her double battle. 

Then, lo and behold, she asked if I’d like to meet for coffee tomorrow. I accepted instantly. This was a rare kindred scientific spirit. Our pokemon had also left excellent impressions on one another. The eelektross was smitten with Vivi (adorable little jerk), Clarisse was enamored of the maractus’ fuschia blooms, and Baron was eager to acquire an, albeit much larger, swimming-mate. I also wondered if she might appreciate my investigation of Julianne V. Skye. Every spiritual physicist has studied Dr. Skye. I don’t know a single one of us who doesn’t hail her as the mother of the field. Perhaps, in Felicia, I might find another ally to join the ranks of Maria, the Quiaa family, and Sofia. 

As we arranged our appointment and parted ways, I managed to glean the trainer’s full name; Felicia Kerian. We returned to the hotel room markedly more content than before. I intended to survey my databases of Julianne’s work in an effort to compare the beachhouse documents to previously known sources. However, I first thought to familiarize myself with our new acquaintance. Call me a stalker, but I’m glad I did this. She was remarkably, dare I say suspiciously, elusive. 

I may periodically fumble with childproof cabinets, but I took a myriad of informatics courses and can perform comprehensive searches more adeptly than some former professors. My exploration of Dr. Skye’s story further honed these skills. If someone is online, I can find them. 

Felicia is obviously educated but there are no school records or scholarly references to her on any academic level; not even a yearbook, club photo, or citation in some article with an audience of eleven. She’s also an outstanding trainer, which usually lends itself to notoriety. Gyms and official league events take note of challengers and participants. This pathway drew a blank as well, regionally and internationally. Thus, I assume she only takes part in low-profile battles with cash transactions; no registration required. 

For all intents and purposes, Felicia Kerian is virtually nonexistent. Everyone leaves traces; legal records, pokecenter sign-ins, public wifi connections, social media, even the odd accidental photobomb. You can start with someone’s TrainerSpace username and end up with their full name, city, location, photo, and email address. 

Aside from our personal encounters, this girl appears definitively only once. Someone posted a video of a battle in Lacunosa town (which I suspect was filmed on a pecha berry). She’s barely recognizable and I found this clip by searching for the eelektross, not her. Here, the formidable pokemon fought and defeated a simisage, an excadrill, and a braviary. Excadrill and braviary, in particular, cannot evolve without significant experience, supporting my assertion that Felicia is not your typical low-mid level competitor. I attempted to continue investigating using screenshots from the video, but nothing else surfaced. I’m forced to consider what that might mean. 

At best, she’s shy and unambitious with sparse history in community involvement. That’s beyond unlikely. People aren’t that invisible and our interactions suggest a very different personality. At worst, she’s a legitimate fugitive. Criminal? Undercover agent or journalist? Maybe she’s a runaway, off on an underage pokemon journey without her parent’s consent. Regardless, the name Felicia Kerian is probably a pseudonym. 

I’m uncertain how best to address this dilemma. I respect Felicia. I even like her, despite the odd mix of severity and spontaneity. She’s brilliant, loves her pokemon, and has potent conviction. She’s also potentially dangerous. People like this are rife with variables. I don’t know what she’s hiding or how serious it is. 

I also don’t know how far she’ll go to protect it. Her eelektross, though incredibly sweet, is certainly capable of murdering my entire team and I, unassisted; consuming the evidence too. He seemed a gentle pokemon at heart, but a cocktail of self preservation and devotion to a trainer can inspire exceptional viciousness. I don’t doubt Clarisse would sever limbs, maybe heads, to protect us. 

Another question also arises. Why Undella Town? At first, I took her for the traveling trainer type; gathering strength to take on the league. Undella Bay is a sensible stop along the way. Many skilled foreign league members vacation here, rendering it a point of convergence for aspiring battle stars. Felicia, I now realize, doesn’t fit this mold. Next time we speak, I’ll attempt to subtly unveil her reason for visiting. Perhaps she’ll tell the truth or, at least, a very informative lie (same result).

I did come across one amusing and intriguing advertisement on a blog, though. “Grand opening; Felicia’s Seaside Chocolatier in sunny Undella Town. Come and get it.” What interests me is that no such place exists in Undella town, or anywhere in Unova. The closest match was Felicia’s Dessert Bar in Castelia City. The blog content itself is riveting; the type of material I might enjoy in leisure, though the prose is rather lifelessly academic. It’s a mixture of biopsych, neurobiology, neurochem, and a bit of theoretical sci-fiesque thought experiments. The blogger (curse it all) is anonymous, employing the pseudonym ‘Ira.’ 

Why this neuroscience buff decided to advertise a nonexistent candy store, I’ve no idea. Somehow, I don’t think Felicia came to sell chocolate. Frankly, I don’t trust her customer service skills. She’s imperious, aloof, and plain bizarre, though charming, in a determined, intellectual way. Still, I’ll keep the advert in the back of my mind. If anything, I found a new blog to peruse. 

However, recent revelations complicate our imminent coffee appointment. I’m not certain it’s wise to continue this exchange. I could be implicated in something over my head. Then again, I’m already involved in a plethora of things so far over my head I might as well read with a telescope. In the event that I do attend our meeting (which I would very much like to), perhaps it’s best to withhold the information on Dr. Skye.

The situation is unsettlingly perfect. A teenager with no records and expertise in spiritual physics shows up at a little-known key location concerning the officially deceased founding scientist of the field. Coincidentally, another SP researcher (investigating said scientist) is there at the same time and they just happen to cross paths. Probability-wise, that’s abnormal. It would be shrewd to gain further insight before liberally bestowing secrets I've labored three years to uncover. 

I also pray she’s only interested professionally, because I’m way too old for her romantically. Yes, I appear young, but I’m out of grad school and that awkward middle-aged phase is approaching fast. Unless we both have a case of misleading babyface, we’re not compatible. 

On another note, my pursuit of Dr. Skye must wait tonight. The Unovan Department of Defense desires to move forward regarding my research. The first NSEmeter installations are scheduled to take place in three weeks on cargo ships that frequent jellicent-infested waters. Usually smaller fishing vessels and yachts are most vulnerable, but there was an instance last year where thirty people and hundreds of millions of pokedollars worth of product went into the brine. It was a Unovan ship enroute back from Hoenn. The crew was multinational, inciting a borderline diplomatic scandal. Both the company and government face pressure to ensure such a fiasco never occurs again. 

Whenever I receive a UDD email or review a draft of my publication for Scientific Unova, I must pause to assess the astounding reality of it all. My work exists beyond the page. It will make a difference for people and pokemon worldwide. The research, which I spent the better part of my PhD refining, may now save lives, just as some of Dr. Skye’s discoveries have. This revelation is at once empowering and humbling.

In addition to continuing preparations with the UDD, I must also prepare my pokemon for the ever rising stakes in our personal sphere. I can’t decidedly claim that my dreams, Felicia Kerian, or the trajectory of my mission are inherently fraught with peril. Nonetheless, they might be and the uncertainty is unnerving. The hotel has a small practice arena in the basement where my pokemon can spar. Our training will encompass a specific form of functional, not sport, battling. Therefore, it seems I’ll be reading Dr. Skye’s “Spirit and Stratagem” again. Perhaps I'll seek Sofia's advice as well...

The immediate threat is this possible ghost or psychic type stalker. Vivi, as a vullaby, is naturally most useful against this opponent. However, she is also the youngest and weakest member of the team. (further handicapped by recklessness and an, admittedly, dismal attention span). As well as instilling some discipline and battle IQ, I plan to teach her two new moves; knockoff and u-turn. 

Under traditional circumstances, knockoff would be reserved for a more experienced vullaby, but it’s critical we make a premature attempt. Vivi needs a damage-dealing dark type attack. U-turn, on the other hand, would provide her with an opportunity to bail if the situation became ugly, going out with bang and providing a teammate with cover. If the opportunity presented itself, Vivi would be wise to use flatter too, for ghosts and psychics rely heavily on special attack and the confusion might also offer a brief offensive window or escape hatch. 

Clarisse, my starter, and simultaneously most adept and reluctant fighter, would put pressure on a psychic but possess no advantage against a ghost. Whereas Vivi’s strategy is applicable to both, Clarisse must develop separate approaches. When fighting a psychic (ex. beheeyem) the attack must be swift and disorienting to prevent the opponent from crippling (or destroying) her mind. String-shot would serve to immobilize and startle them, and struggle-bug would inflict damage. Normal type moves like slash and false swipe would be employed as needed. To attack ghosts, physically, is fruitless. Her greatest asset against them will be her speed and ferocious razor leaf. 

Baron, regardless of the opponent, will likely focus on crunch and confuse ray. Furthermore, his immunity to ghost types would serve him splendidly. Unfortunately, sand attack, one of his favorites, would be of little use, as strong ghosts and psychics are often able to detect an organism’s presence, despite impaired vision. 

The prospect of teaching the entire team knockoff also has promise. The elder pair, Clarisse and Baron, could perfect it first and impart their mastery to Vivi. Then comes the tricky bit; merging these strategies. In mortal peril, fighting one-on-one is overrated Here, we operate as a team. 

As for Felicia’s eelektross… our best bet would be to simultaneously fling string shot, flatter, and sand attack before immediately fleeing for our lives. With any luck, the inconvenient barrage of silk, dirt, and neurological trauma would buy us a fifteen second head start. During the previous double battle it became apparent that Felicia prefers to keep her maractus on the sidelines, so I’m not certain what issues would present themselves there. 

As with most things, pokemon training is considerably easier to envision than execute. I elected to leave the battlefield to my brother Luca, partially because I find scholarship more engaging, partially because I tend to crumple and spew incoherent word-vomit instead of commands under combat pressure. Strategic knowledge aside, I suck. 

There’s a special sort of cruelty in this breed of failure. Intellectually, I am a more skilled pokemon trainer than Luca; than many people, actually. Yet, in the heat of battle, all charisma and fortitude dissipates in a flash. Even my knowledge dissolves, drowned by the surge of cortisol and adrenaline. Some musicians are in their element onstage. Under the spotlight, absorbing the energy of an audience, fear is nowhere to be found, only delicious focus. Others bemoan the fact that their best performances took place in the practice room with an audience of none. They struggle with shaky bow, tremble so much while they sing it elicits artificial vibrato, even barf backstage.

As a child, I wanted to be exactly like Dr. Skye; a master scientist, musician, and pokemon trainer. She had this effortlessness about her in battle that I could never replicate. Instead, I taught my little brother right out of her books and seminar videos. Luca isn’t brilliant, but he’s driven and confident. He can think while he fights and, a long time ago, he even listened to the older brother who loves him. I had once thought we could be like Julianne and John. 

Battle-wise, my only saving grace is the blessed natural prowess of my beautiful pokemon. I give them moves, drills, and simulations to practice. They apply them, because there’s no guarantee I won’t faint like someone’s great grandmother instead of reminding Baron to watch his left flank. I know this because it’s exactly how my first schoolyard battle during recess ended. Clarisse and Baron forfeited the contest; too busy using tackle on my chest as a makeshift form of CPR. I wasn’t actually having a heart attack but regaining consciousness in the nurse’s office was so humiliating I almost wished for one. 

Perhaps it’s undignified to write these things for posterity. Then again, teenage Julianne once stood outdoors in a yoke and shackles like some BDSM fetishist to protest mistreatment of gurdurr in Roshan’s factories (she was almost arrested after police thought it a resurgence of the Team Plasma scare). Dignity is the least of our concerns. Those sublime artists and scholars, truly devoted to their craft, sacrificed dignity at the altar of greatness long ago...sometimes they just have what-the-fuck moments too.


	22. May 28th, 08:01, Gift from Mimi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 28th, 08:01, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
As a scientist, I often find myself prioritizing logos over pathos. I’m not a cold, dispassionate person by any means. I just can't help but acknowledge logic as more valuable in regards to academic pursuits. Yet, I find myself considering a Galarian allegory in which pathos is represented by a copperajah and logos by a human rider. Usually the trainer guides the pokemon, which is content to oblige this course. However, should the copperajah become impassioned, in excitement, rage, or otherwise, the human perched upon its back can only brace themselves for the wild ride ahead. Emotion has power derived from deepest instinct. It is destructive and creative; terrible and beautiful. Today, it delivered a treasure into my hands. 

John’s lilligant, Mimi, has lived with Sofia since her trainer’s death. Apparently, the documents I sent to Johto moved her so that she decided to disclose a secret kept for fourteen years; an encrypted letter from Julianne to her brother. It was guarded by his pokemon, even from John’s children and Sofia. Now, Mimi, in her love and grief, has trusted me with this and I thank her profusely. Here is the email I received from Sofia Mori at 06:30…

Aidan,  
I know you didn’t start this journey for some old geezer and her pokemon a thousand miles away. You did a good thing though and I am so happy I answered your message instead of shoving it under a desk like everything else to do with Julie for the past decade. I think part of me has been mad at her. I couldn’t help it. She was just gone and no one knew how or why and it felt like abandonment even if it wasn’t. Reading these letters, journals, and sketches reminds me how much she believed in us; how much she loved us and gave for her family’s well-being. Sometimes, she seemed so distant and fierce and cold. Yet, underneath I know that we were precious to her. 

Since her trainer passed, Mimi’s been a sad sight. Lilligant flowers are difficult to maintain, even for grass type specialists, but she blossomed for Johnny. He had a green thumb and a good heart. Losing him and her teammates, Sparky and Puddles, caused wilting in more ways than one. Bailey’s choice to stay with Johnny’s granddaughter, Josefine, didn’t help either. 

Something’s changed now. Her color has been steadily returning for the first time in a while. She went weirdly quiet for a few hours after we read the stuff you found in Undella Town. Then, out of nowhere, she hands me this piece of paper. I couldn’t tell you where she’s been hiding it, but the handwriting is Julie’s and Johnny’s name is on the back. The date is two weeks before her missing person’s report. It’s total gibberish.I can’t make heads or tails of that crypto-nonsense my mentor liked so much, but you’re a smart guy. You managed to crack those book ciphers. Maybe you’ll figure this out too. Here it is- 

LPRXEAGNSWXDQTRFTHVPMQNSBTYKDCMODRCZXIQQEOFZASCISPYVLJKFRELFLXDELNZNZMOEBZUMEFFNUYQWPSDZHVJNMXUQFNAFDKNTNGHOKRJNTNRPHHZWJTLJXKJGBGTVVSLMXHALVTTHIHFSEDDEVZAWYLYXSEXOZXLNTHSRVYENTNWLLVDXHCGCYRLXLTRZULPMSTVLELWZKWSAZJTLVTBBTVQZKALACKOZHNLEAWJQEKLNFHCUDTTGAIJRKZPNJLSITEKUGRGVRVQULJWDKURMYRPCBIQZAXSCYMUNCVBCTZWFOORJWZVDMLBXWIYOYYMWXBSJRRFBHSZWEKSGRJTVTPNMFSQOEOWALVAIAGWCUAEIVHLIMWWWLATALFWGJXBATXFIPCEXHZBSIKSVZWXQWWXSMLZXFAZYMOELSGMCOOJMRGQVBZKXSEOLTSPYVVYSJLWISEUAZXJRESNURVQZNZEXXLTIYGLMJUWGHXRVQFRYHMEOLGBZEPJSIQJTGTVGTBLOXXYSDCLLHXHZXKOULVJBRYKUTSTLWLABFXHGHPLEZLWAOEMGKPRQWPYMJAAGLZOKUSZHMLRZFZLIFONYHWZVBSXEPNWHSKTWBQWWGLZWBZEJLTZWNLXMNALRWFQCEJZNHPSOPD

Take care, Aidan.  
The honorable (and grateful) Sofia Mori 

P.S. I can’t believe our bottles are still up on the roof! Even if it's just pieces, that's cool. Thanks for checking it out. 

So, I now have a brand new letter from Julianne to John. Sort of. The issue is, of course, the encryption, which is unfortunately more problematic than the previous examples. To determine exactly what I was dealing with, I calculated the index of coincidence. It indicates the probability of randomly selected letters being the same and helps identify possible cipher candidates.

In this language, the average IC for a text is 0.0667. Because all languages function in patterns, a high coincidence index is inevitable. If the IC for the ciphertext is close to that value, you probably have a monoalphabetic substitution or transposition cipher on your hands. In regards to ease of decryption, this is ideal. Both can be handled in seconds via frequency analysis programs. Even the least competent amateurs can crack it on paper with a bit of patience. 

However, if the IC is closer to, say 0.0385, you might as well be looking at a random portion of alphabet soup. In that case, the poor sap trying to decrypt the text is in for an Arceus-damned fight against entropy and their own fraying composure. It’s probably a polyalphabetic cipher of some sort, most of which exist for the sole purpose of resisting frequency analysis. The index of coincidence for Dr. Skye’s message is 0.04098 and screw that to the distortion world and back. 

During my undergrad studies at Jubilife College I once procrastinated on a midterm paper for half an hour, watching a murkrow peck at my dorm room window. The little thieves can’t resist shiny things and my roommate kept a glass dialga figurine on our windowsill. Murkrow may not be able to detect windowpanes on sight, but they’re not stupid. They know a barrier when they bang their beak into it and the glass manufacturers know a thing or two about reinforcement against pokemon attacks. Still, the bird, fully aware of it’s dilemma, endeavored tenaciously to reach that shimmering prize. Peering down at this mess of ciphertext, I empathize completely. 

My best bet for reading Dr. Skye’s message is finding the cipher key used for encryption. Knowing her, the key is at least the length of the message, providing additional security. At worst, it’s a random sequence, rendering it unbreakable via virtually any method of cryptanalysis. Fortunately, I suspect this is not the case. Rather than ask her brother to save or memorize a collection of random letters, it's probable she chose something specifically relevant to their relationship; something John would guess swiftly while leaving nosy strangers stumped. 

Thankfully, I’m no ordinary stranger (though I am, perhaps, nosy). Dr. Skye has been my subject since childhood and I've amassed a myriad of records concerning John. Furthermore, I have Maria Cypress, Sofia Mori, and, perhaps with intervention on the Johto trainer's part, John’s children to help. I’ll contact them this afternoon. Perhaps, together, we may uncover the key. In the meantime, I must prepare a backup plan, namely, a joint series of index of coincidence and kasiski tests. On the off chance she did select a cipher key shorter than the message, I should be able to deduce its size, which would bring me leagues closer to decryption. Come to think of it, my senior suitemate, Erity, was a huge cryptography hobbyist. Perhaps I should seek her as a resource, though I’m sure aid will come at a price; probably another one of Clarisse’s custom hats. She already has at least six (well-showcased on her TrainerSpace profile). 

I also pondered testing the ciphertext by isolating terms Dr. Skye would be most likely to use in correspondence. For example, she signed almost all of her letters with her initials; JVS. Unfortunately, if she were truly adamant about the strength of her cipher, I imagine she’d avoid that here. During The Great War of Annexation, Kanto intelligence used this strategy to break the famous, ever-shifting Unown Code, intercepting hundreds of military movements. Johto made the mistake of ending each message with “under Ho-Oh’s wings.” Julianne was well versed in history and had a number of allies from both Johto and Kanto who would have encountered this story in the media and school curriculum. Thus, I deem Dr. Skye unlikely to succumb to such sloppiness. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try though. 

In other news, training exercises with Vivi were just as exasperating as usual, though she did make some notable progress. U-turn is now firmly ingrained in her battle repertoire and blatant abuse of the move ensures plenty of practice. It’s the perfect way to antagonize, not only her enemies, but everyone on her team while evading retaliation. It also leaves painful and unflattering bruises. If she does it again, I’m revoking shoulder-ride privileges and roadkill stops for a week. My vullaby can shriek all she wants. The next flattened, rancid carcass I see on the street, we pass, heedless of her scavenger cravings. 

I must now postpone further attempts at both discipline and decryption as I ready myself to face Felicia with newfound knowledge and doubts surrounding her identity. Perhaps our meeting will just be a pleasant exchange of spiritual physics jargon, confusing every other cafe patron in earshot. Perhaps something more rousing, even sinister, will emerge from our conversation. I suppose I’ll find out. 

The dubious part of me wants to pocket my xtransceiver and leave it on recording-mode. However, if Felicia isn’t, in fact dangerous, it’s quite an awful breach of privacy; highly unethical and liable to induce immense guilt. Anyway, our appointment is at 9:30 and the coffee shop, “Bayside Brews” is six blocks away. I don’t know whether to adore or detest the fact that the name of every business in Undella Town sounds like the beach is puking all over it. At least I’m not mobbed by feathery wraiths every time I open a bag of chips. That’s a distinct pleasure of the Sinnoh region. The wingull there are possessed of numbers and audacity unmatched. Unova’s population simply cannot compare.


	23. May 28th, 17:25, Felicia's Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor. 
> 
> *Today I learned that AO3 doesn't have a a superscript function. It's a one dimensional world. No squaring or cubing your units. Therefore, m3 is now meters cubed.*

May 28th, 17:25, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
That settles it. I am a terrible person with terrible scholarly ethics. Paranoia and nosiness have led me to a new dismal low; clandestinely recording conversations with teenagers. Granted, this particular teenager was sketchy as a purrloin in a trenchcoat wearing the Galarian crown jewels. Nonetheless, my actions were a grievous invasion of privacy and conscience demands I delete this pokegear recording immediately. 

Unfortunately, curiosity and self-preservation demand otherwise. The content of my exchange with Felicia (if that is her name) elicits enthusiasm and alarm alike. Perhaps she’s brilliant. Perhaps she’s mad as a sinistea in a solo cup. Either way, Felicia is, once again, attempting to recruit me for something both frightening and enthralling. Even more disturbing is the fact that I’m seriously considering her offer. 

Our initial meeting at the coffee shop was conventional enough, I suppose. Bayside Brews was a pleasant place; bedecked in beachy pastels but somehow coming off as airy and welcoming rather than gaudy. Felicia arrived first, claiming the most secluded corner table. I was finally formally introduced to her pokemon (the maractus is Allie and the eeleektross, R). A single letter makes for an odd name, but I’ve heard worse. Erity and I had to convince her little cousin not to call his gastly ‘fart’. 

Anyway, R was curled, resting round our table and Baron, unappreciative of the late-morning heat, was swift to join him. Vivi amused herself with paper napkins while Clarisse and Allie continued bonding where they left off yesterday. My leavanny is typically gregarious but mating season is approaching, rendering her more affectionate than usual. Alolans I encounter are often surprised by this, expecting her to behave like their native lurantis. Females of that species express a certain ravenousness during their season, occasionally to the detriment of the smaller males. 

I also learned that Felicia finds coffee to be utterly unpalatable, despite her invitation to a cafe. She claimed that the caffeine and overpowering odor disagrees with her, ordering a mild chamomile instead. I have no such reservations regarding caffeine. Neither does Vivi, unfortunately (I’ve considered a childproof lid for my thermos). After niceties were exchanged, I was able to activate the recording function on my xtransceiver on the pretense of deactivating the map. This is where my transcript begins...

AIDAN: For a small town, it’s awfully easy to take a wrong turn. 

FELICIA: First time here? 

AIDAN: Mhm. And you? 

FELICIA: First time in a while. I attended summers in my youth. 

AIDAN: What brought you back? 

FELICIA: A convenient place to do research while making battle money. 

AIDAN: I posit ace trainers and rich vacationers pay well. 

FELICIA: It’s almost ludicrous. 

AIDAN: Speaking of research, it’s not often I meet another spiritual physics enthusiast. Are you on an internship? Uni project? 

FELICA: No and no. Are you always this nervous? 

AIDAN: Excuse me? 

FELICIA: I imagine yesterday’s aggressive outburst was jarring but wouldn't dare threaten you again. 

AIDAN: It was a misunderstanding. You were anxious for Allie. 

FELICIA: It was inappropriate. 

AIDAN: Don’t worry. All was forgiven the moment you mentioned theories on post-mortem leakage bulk. 

FELICIA: Good. If the following inquiries prove fruitful, I may have an academic proposal for you. 

AIDAN: Consider me intrigued. 

FELICIA: I would like to further explore your NSEmeter. 

AIDAN: Please understand, the designs are proprietary. I can’t elaborate on the shiny stone to core conduction process without an NDA. 

FELICIA: I won’t pry into design. Capability is what concerns me.

AIDAN: Capability regarding? 

FELICIA: Is the range of your device limited to this plane? 

AIDAN: Can it seek NSE through the veil, you mean? 

FELICIA: Precisely.

AIDAN: Theoretically, it’s possible, though I haven’t tried. The barrier of veil would likely dampen or obscure the signal beyond recognition. 

FELICIA: So success would require a large, clear energy source? 

AIDAN: That’s an understatement. Only a truly massive, highly charged NSE surge would register with any degree of certainty. It’s like trying to read through frosted glass. 

FELICIA: What about, say, a charge of 40sC, stable radiation of 1,500meS, and an average energy density of 37,000meS/m3.

AIDAN: Say that again?

FELICIA: 40sC, 1,500meS, 37,000meS/m3.

AIDAN: Holy shit. 

FELICIA: Your verdict?

AIDAN: I could detect it. The real question is what in Arceus’ name could produce it. 

FELICIA: Would you like to find out? 

AIDAN: It actually exists?

FELICIA: It does and your technology would enable us to pinpoint its exact location, structure, even observe aural fluctuations in real time. It could mean a reliable channel of communication, albeit one-way- 

AIDAN: It’s sentient? 

FELICIA: Certainly. 

AIDAN: And you want to communicate with it? This, frankly, cataclysmic thing waiting in the spirit world? 

FELICIA: I must. 

AIDAN: That’s like talking to a H-bomb. 

FELICIA: They can be reasoned with, I assure you. 

AIDAN: The H-bomb or your NSE-monster? I’m not sure which is more receptive to reasoning. 

FELICIA: I understand how bewilderingly outlandish this must seem, but I believe they will be open to discourse, if given the chance. 

AIDAN: Discourse? How do you know it’s conscious? How do you even know it’s there? 

FELICIA: If you help us, I might be convinced to clarify. 

AIDAN: And how, specifically, am I meant to help you? 

FELICIA: Put your NSEmeter on a boat, float into the middle of the bay, and let the tech run until we have our data.

AIDAN: Even if we manage to detect something, there’s no guarantee we can discern detailed aural fluctuations through the veil. We’re not dealing with a shower curtain. This is a barrier between universes. 

FELICIA: It behaves unconventionally here. 

AIDAN: There’s no published evidence for that. 

FELICIA: Move forward with the experiment and you’ll find there is. Unpublished, of course. 

AIDAN: This is insane. Furthermore, I already have a mission. 

FELICIA: With the UDD. The government takes ages to make progress. You have time.

AIDAN: Another mission. I can’t afford major distractions. 

FELICIA: Perhaps minor distractions? I’ll procure the boat, determine the route, reimburse you for any expenses, and defend us from wild pokemon. You need only provide your device and a bit of company. 

AIDAN: How can I trust you’re capable? 

FELICIA: I’m not an idiot. 

AIDAN: No, you’re a teenager and I have only three short conversations with as a basis for judgement. Are you even old enough to rent a boat? 

FELICIA: I have more experience than my appearance would suggest. 

AIDAN: You sound like it, but I’ve seen 35 year old women play sixteen year old boys onstage. People will project anything to get what they want. 

FELICIA: I’m well aware. Nonetheless, I swear to uphold my end of our agreement. Can you manage yours? 

AIDAN: I haven’t agreed yet. 

FELICIA: You will. 

AIDAN: What makes you so sure? 

FELICIA: Curiosity. Your type can’t resist the call for long. My sister was one of you. 

AIDAN: Perhaps you misjudge me. 

FELICIA: Well, you lack her nerve and smell of cortisol, fleece, and coconut shampoo. Still, you’re both insatiable. 

AIDAN: I’m a scientist. It’s part of the job. 

FELICIA: It’s more than that. People like you don’t seek knowledge. You claw desperately at it. You endeavor and struggle, ecstatic, relentless, and heedless of boundaries. Your zeal doesn’t inspire you. It burns you until there is no course but forward for fall back is searing agony. 

AIDAN: No one has ever described me so violently. 

FELICIA: They see an exterior; polite, nonthreatening. I see your mind. 

AIDAN: A mind that doesn’t lack prudence. You’re a stranger and I’d be entirely at your mercy out there. None of my pokemon can swim like R. 

FELICIA: Hire a water type. They accompany tourists all the time. 

AIDAN: I know a samurott at the scuba shop. 

FELICIA: You dive? 

AIDAN: No. 

FELICIA: Pity. The owner has a lanturn too. Ask for her. 

AIDAN: Had a lanturn. Layla passed. 

FELICIA: My condolences.

AIDAN: Do you dive? 

FELICIA: I used to. It was often frightening. 

AIDAN: If it scared you so much, why partake?

FELICIA: My sister needed a dive buddy. 

AIDAN: Siblings have a habit of dragging you out of your comfort zone. 

FELICIA: That they do. Oh, you’re still nervous? 

AIDAN: Of course. I expected pleasantries and intellectual banter, not your bombshell of a request. 

FELICIA: Are you afraid of me? 

AIDAN: What? 

FELICIA: Despite earlier commentary, you have no true fear of R and Allie’s about as intimidating as a petunia. That leaves me. 

AIDAN: I never claimed to be afraid. 

FELICIA: You don’t have to. 

AIDAN: In all honesty, this past week has been quite stressful. Rough nights. It makes me rather twitchy. 

FELICIA: Ah, that’s understandable. 

AIDAN: This is simply a lot to process. I should have finished my coffee before talking to you. 

FELICIA: I was, perhaps, hasty with my proposition. Such serendipity has not come to us for years. 

AIDAN: Us meaning? 

FELICIA: My family. R and Allie. 

AIDAN: This is important to you? Collectively? 

FELICIA: Inexpressibly so. 

AIDAN: Arceus dammit. Give me a moment to think. 

FELICIA: Perhaps you’ll allow us to win you personally before accepting or declining? 

AIDAN: Meaning what? 

FELICIA: Spend leisure time with us. 

AIDAN: You assume we have leisure time. 

FELICIA: Surely there’s an hour to spare. What’s your pleasure? Sports? Film? Music?

AIDAN: I love music. 

FELICIA: Excellent. Do you play, perchance?

AIDAN: Piano; not on a professional level, but I don’t completely suck. 

FELICIA: Well, I happen to be a trumpeter. Let’s jam tonight. 

AIDAN: Jam? You mean improv? 

FELICIA: Why not? 

AIDAN: That may be beyond my paygrade. As in, I don’t get paid for keyboard skills. Ever. 

FELICIA: Then I’ll bring sheet music. What's in your rep? 

AIDAN: Solo work, mostly. Nothing with a brass part. 

FELICIA: Irrelevant. I just need a feel for your aptitude. 

AIDAN: Alright… I’ve played Prelude No. 7 by Shossvan, Mareep May Safely Graze; Buko, Reverie; pretty sure that’s Deyasse. Or Lissat? Shoot. 

FELICIA: I can work with that. There’s a lovely piano in town, if only it were in tune. Then, there’s the issue of breaking and entering. 

AIDAN: My hotel has an instrument, if it helps. 

FELICIA: That’s probably better. Fewer complications. 

AIDAN: Wait, you’d actually break in for a piano? 

FELICIA: It’s hardly difficult. 

AIDAN: And this is supposed to make me trust you? 

FELICIA: If anything, it is a display of commitment to our alliance. 

AIDAN: So you’re a delinquent but at least you’re loyal. 

FELICIA: That vullaby is more of a delinquent than I am. She’s drinking some lady’s latte right now. 

AIDAN: What? Fuck. Vivi, no! 

At this point, I rushed to dislodge my pokemon’s foamy beak from another patron’s drink, apologizing profusely. My recording also ended with a bout of muffled speech and static. I’m not quite certain how that happened, though my bet’s on Vivi’s pecking habit again. Afterwards, I provided the address to The Undella Bayview Hotel and arranged our rendezvous before picking up a newspaper on the way out. It’s been ages since I maintained any semblance of diligent piano practice but this should, at least, be entertaining. It’ll be like watching hoothoot fledglings fly into mailboxes on SFV. 

Nonetheless, more severe trepidation simmers. Felicia is persuasive and disturbingly perceptive. Considering my discoveries regarding her background (or lack thereof), I was indeed nervous entering that coffee shop. Largely, I was simply afraid she would notice a change in my demeanor. The trainer did more than notice. She told me I “smel[t] of cortisol,” which is not an accusation anyone is keen on hearing while trying to retain composure. 

I may not fare well in the heat of battle but I am, by no means, a shy conversationalist. I’ve interviewed league members, convicted felons, even wild litwick and none of them, (besides, perhaps, the litwick) have ever seen through me with such ease; like a sharpedo scenting blood in the brine. It’s unnerving. It also forces me to assemble embarrassing (if somewhat honest) excuses for why I’m so unreasonably jumpy. 

Unfortunately, Felicia made another accurate assumption too. I am desperate for knowledge. I’ve thrown funds and time and sanity at my pursuit of Dr. Skye for three years; more than anyone (particularly my mother) would approve of if they knew. I have sacrificed much, including, sometimes, my integrity. I desire to help Sofia Mori find closure and claim that I will do all in my power to give this to her. Yet, what does that mean when her goals align so closely with mine? There’s no sidetrack involved; no suffering or yielding of some boon. In fact, remaining within her good graces is highly beneficial to my ends. On this same mission, I lied to the Undella Town realtors about wanting to rent the beachhouse. It wasn’t a devastating deception. No one was killed or even more than mildly inconvenienced. Still, I went to that house under false pretenses and pried up a stair tread. Now, I’m recording teenagers without their consent. 

This intellectual desperation poses another problem as well. I dearly want to test my technology. Most governments and universities are unlikely to support an endeavor similar to what Felicia proposes. They care not for the spirit world, but this world. They also fear inflaming the conservative masses by “defiling the sanctity of death.” Thus, Felicia’s proposal boasts considerable allure. 

I should clarify that the spirit world and the spiritual realm are not synonymous. The spiritual realm is a term referring, officially, to the total spiritual mass and energy in the universe. The spirit world is another universe with a distinct set of rules. Like most life on Earth, our universe is majority physical, containing trace amounts of spiritual mass and energy (SM and SE, respectively). The spirit world cannot support any physical mass or conventional forms of energy (CM or CE, respectively). 

The veil is the border between these universes. Though CM and CE cannot usually cross, they may be able to do so in an ambiguous state (AM and AE). Some ghosts (dusknoir, drifblim, gigantamax gengar, pumpkaboo, etc) are able to induce this state in their own physical anchors and other objects. However, even true ghosts (defined as majority spiritual entities composed of anchor, life-force, and soul, imprinted from deceased organisms) cannot remain there indefinitely. To do so, they must surrender their physical anchor. This would sever the connection back to their native universe. 

The anchor is the source of all stability in the spiritual world. Every living thing and ghost possesses one, whether it be a human body, metallo-organic gears, a pile of sand, or even a derelict porta-potty (that spirit exhibited unconventional taste). Without this anchor, SM and SE rapidly cross the veil. The entire lifespan of an organism might be described as one one oscillation of spiritual mass and energy between universes. It enters our world and binds to an anchor, then unbinds, thus, departing. Crossing back again would require either a major leakage event, transition to an ambiguous state, or a directed expenditure of energy potent enough to permeate the veil. To remain here for more than a moment, a suitable anchor would have to be swiftly established. 

The spirit world and its interactions with our own are still poorly understood. This is true even for ghosts for they are anomalies amongst us. Though the realm most tangible to them is spiritual, they are firmly rooted in our majority physical universe. This is their life and afterlife. Felicia’s project might offer insight regarding these mysterious workings. Dr. Skye and her team uncovered much of what we know now (to the outrage of many critics) but her disappearance marked an unceremonious end to these investigations. This aspect of the field has stagnated and it’s not difficult to discern why. Studying the veil and the spirit world is nigh impossible without the help of a strong ghost type, willing and able to communicate with humans. It also renders a researcher susceptible to attack from the media, religious organizations, and, even, at times, their peers. Felicia and her NSE entity (if she isn’t bonkers) present an opportunity to revive these studies. I’m loath to be distracted from my ultimate goal yet am undeniably drawn to this phenomenon. If Dr. Skye was in my position, she probably wouldn’t use chasing ghosts (metaphorical ones, at least) as an excuse to reject a chance at potential scientific progress. 

In addition, another source of intrigue here rears its head. Felicia has news of some massive spirit emitting from beyond the veil. The monstrous thing from my nightmare wanted to cross the veil. Could they be related? It seems delusional but stranger conspiracies have been proven. For example, there was this one bit of criminal hilarity circulating in the press while I completed my undergrad at Jubilife City College. A group of old ladies used their flying types to steal and hoard all of Twinleaf Town’s mail for three months. Authorities found the whole lot stashed at the local bingo hall. Apparently, the offenders made a weekly event of reading pilfered letters and opening surprise packages. When a child came forth, denouncing his grandmother’s starly as a diabolical mail thief, people laughed. I suppose they still laugh, even after verification. It’s all rather absurd. 

If my suspicions regarding Felicia’s target are well-founded, it would offer relief in that I no longer need prepare for a beheeyem or mismagius confrontation. However, it would also mean that something else, something very hateful and powerful, is attempting to work through me to enter this world. I wonder if it would be wise to warn Felicia. Should I inform her that, if she establishes contact, that thing may try to use her too? 

Arceus, it’s ridiculous. I want to prevent the person using me from being used. Then again, Felicia’s SE level and spiritual charge aren’t enough to destabilize lifeforce by proximity. Assuming the numbers are accurate (40sC and 37,000meS/m3), her subject is another story. If this is the same nightmarish entity I dreamt about, our expedition will allow me to gather valuable data on what exactly it is I’m dealing with. 

In the meantime, I await correspondence from Sofia and Erity regarding Dr. Skye’s polyalphabetic cipher. Maria (once again a goddess of good timing) and I have begun brainstorming a list of possible cipher keys. A reliable online decryption program was employed to test the hundreds of options and, thus far, none have borne fruit. The intricacy of the sibling’s personal lives provides an endless litany of possibilities. Every spare moment standing in line, waiting for microwave popcorn, even (admittedly) sitting on the crapper is granted to this most tedious research and application. I suppose this is my life now. 

For example, Akeey (the lead baritone from Song of The Mandibuzz) was written as an homage to John. Therefore, we tried the character's name and titles, as well as the lyrics from all of his arias and recitative in a myriad of combinations. Julianne also attended most of her brother’s basketball games in their youth. Thus, we ended up watching dozens of videos featuring the Southside Stoutland to glean the words of their chants, play names, and roster. Everything is fair game from email addresses, to pokemon battle strategies, to favorite television catchphrases, and messages in birthday cards. To my embarrassment, I even plugged in Dr. Skye’s ridiculous childhood nickname. As a toddler, John couldn’t pronounce sister or Julianne and somehow began calling her Lila (alternative orthography; Leela or Lela). This persisted until he was almost six, largely out of affectionate habit, as his articulation had vastly improved. This nickname, of course, failed as a cipher key. It wouldn’t have been a very secure choice, anyway. 

This search has been a uniquely frustrating endeavor in that there is despairingly little creativity or critical thinking involved. Instead, it entails hours of sorting through my database and the wider net for anything related to John Skye and enduring failure after failure. It is the mundane grunt work of academia. Maria, in an effort to lift my spirits, sent a copy of one of Dr. Skye’s journal entries regarding her experience with reuniclus. The document is not unfamiliar to me, but it should provide a pleasant respite before Felicia puts me on the spot once more. 

The newspaper certainly didn’t soothe me. Apparently, a branch of the The Arceist Knights of Purity (AKP) are campaigning in Nimbasa City against the ownership of species blacklisted by the organization. Though practitioners of Arceism, they have been denounced by almost every other Arceist church as extremists (even the ultra-traditionalist Ancient Church of Arceus and fanatical Sentinels of Holy Creation). They claim to be defenders of the mind and soul from the forces of darkness and perversion. I wouldn’t complain if Reshiram flew over and took an enormous flaming shit on them all. 

The uninformed think they’re harmless, perhaps even noble. Spiritual physicists know better, as they’ve fought to destroy our field since its conception. They’ve also spent decades unjustly persecuting many ghost, dark, and psychic type pokemon. This rancor is, by no means, new to the region. Many centuries ago, some Unovan kingdoms were so opposed to meddling in the spiritual realm that they attempted genocide against the golett and golurk. It is believed that the pokemon were created by an ancient civilization and the kingdoms deemed them unnatural abominations born of human sacrilege. Thankfully, their efforts to eradicate these majestic ghosts were in vain. 

The more modern AKP were popularized by their aggressive attempts to mitigate malicious ghost and psychic attacks in response to negligence from the UDD and pokemon league. Many of the members, regional and international, are victims of such attacks. Some survived gourgeist or frillish predation, were traumatized as children by sadistic duskull, blame elgyem for botched neurological procedures, or lost relatives to lampent breaches in hospitals. 

Unova is in near unanimous agreement that the likes of chandelure, jellicent, confragrius, and beheeyem must be addressed as a threat to public safety when they appear. However. the AKP goes so far as to protest the medical employment of elgyem and perform mass exorcisms of yamask. Contrary to popular belief, exorcism does not send ghosts “to a better place” or grant them peace. It is an agonizing second death leading to oblivion, which they fiercely resist. Yamask are classified as type B spirits, meaning that they rarely if ever attack living humans unless provoked. Therefore, these exorcisms are essentially the murder of innocents. The knights also targeted sensu oricorio in Alola for “wielding sacred and profane energies for frivolous and combative purposes.” However, the residents of Poni island are proud and protective of this unique species and promptly rebuffed the church's arguments. 

Dr. Skye despised the AKP and they returned the sentiment wholeheartedly. In their eyes her studies were blasphemous and Keros, the worst breed of demon. Therefore, she was an adversary to humanity, all good living creatures, and the will of Arceus. Julianne herself acknowledged that chandelure are naturally violent entities; type E ghosts, meaning that, should you encounter one, assume it’s quite passionate about killing you. Shauntal, one of the few (living) long-term chandelure trainers, confirms this. Her specimen is outfitted with a dampening implant to prevent it from annihilating the soul of everyone within its event horizon. She and Dr. Skye once arranged a meeting for their pokemon to converse. After a few minutes, Shauntal’s ghost called Keros a traitorous weakling and made to attack Julianne (who was swiftly defended). The Elite Four member, a fascinating individual, adores her pokemon for the fierce creature it is, unwavering hostility and all. Understandably, despite enjoying the companionship of her own chandelure, Julianne was active regarding innovation to keep the species at bay. 

Nonetheless, the AKP, as her most vocal opponents, vowed to ruin her at every turn. They sparked outrage and rioting, mobilizing their wealthy and influential members to lobby against her. Though the church itself offers no comment, affiliates are every so often caught vandalizing the SP department buildings at UNU or sending threatening messages to famous ghost trainers. That the AKP is cropping up in the media again is infuriating. Seeing as the article fails to elaborate effectively on their past and current misdeeds, this publicity will only aid their growth. 

Perhaps it’s best I take a break and read that reuniclus journal now. The news has made me irritable and the sight of unpunctuated gibberish as I input yet another nursery rhyme or diner menu into the decryption site may incite hysterics. Such behavior tends to worry Clarisse, send Baron into morose abscondence, and leave Vivi insufferably overexcited. The team does not deserve to bear my vexation.


	24. Dr. Skye's thoughts- Solosis, Duosion, and Reuniclus- Excerpt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor

When seeking a reuniclus troop, it is prudent to determine the location of calcium-rich mineral deposits. Though these pokemon are classified as omnivores, their internal processes are so heavily reliant on calcium ions that they require additional supplementation. This need is satisfied via frequent consumption of calcium compounds, organic and inorganic alike. Failure on this front leads, first, to disorientation and lethargy, and finally to complete homeostatic imbalance and death. 

In the wild, mineral deposits are often the heart of troop territories. Caves laden with calcite or particular plagioclases are ideal but, in their absence, limestone is popular. Soft, powdery chalk is especially desirable for solosis and duosion, as they lack the boulder-crushing arms of reuniclus. Bone and shell, left as refuse or scat by the average predator, also provides a delightful treat. Dwebble are not so delighted. The rock inn pokemon have realized, to their horror, that chitin-calcium carbonate exoskeletons and stone shells do not repel but entice these predators (bug typing aside). There are few species which elicit more fear in their population. 

I explored the limestone caverns near Route Nine with the accompaniment of Feliks and Allegra. The bulk of Rukka and Gemma in such an enclosed space would have served us poorly. Worse, Keros is one of the few creatures reuniclus genuinely fear and would have driven the psychic types away in an instant. Therefore, the remainder of the team kept to their pokeballs. To lure our subjects from the recesses of the vast cave system, I carried a homemade, toffee-like substance which confused the palate terribly. It tasted simultaneously of delicious dark chocolate and writing chalk, pleasing our hosts immensely. 

Solosis, duosion, and reuniclus are among the most amicable of all species. I use the word territory loosely where they are concerned, for they make no effort to defend it unless approached with direct hostility. Perhaps this is because the abundance and diversity of their diet renders competition pointless. Everything from algae to chunks of hefty prey can be phagocytosed. Larger items are often masticated by their internal jaws to hasten the digestive process. 

They also possess few natural predators, as their fluid matrix, when ingested, induces excessive vomiting, urination, and diarrhea, often leading to deadly dehydration. The only Unovan pokemon known to safely consume them are the foongus, frillish, and litwick lines (the latter pair only partaking in lifeforce). Some territorial and pugnacious species will attack a wandering individual and hydreigon unleash their wrath indiscriminately. However, most pokemon are uninterested or intimidated by their considerable psychic power. Thus, lack of predation has shaped a nearly fearless creature. 

This, combined with an intelligent and gregarious nature, led the troop to approach with endearing curiosity and hospitality. They escorted us gaily to the underground spring, marking the center of their community. I estimate they number, roughly, three hundred; mostly solosis but a fair portion of duosion, and, perhaps, fifteen reuniclus. Supposedly, there are other troops of similar stature, which gives me hope that the population is recovering from the prion epidemic forty years ago. 

Thus, I am privileged to study one of the most unique pokemon lines in existence. Though they bear recognizable structures (eyes, arms, mouth, etc) their internal organization firmly dismisses that familiarity. To begin, the reuniclus body is composed of an exterior membrane, a fluid matrix, and several specialized nodes. In solosis and duosion, these nodes have yet to differentiate spatially. 

In the center of the body lies the executive node (EN); prime regulator of the organism as well as the site of emotion and cognition. It also features a mouth, though that term is somewhat misleading. Its use is, primarily, mastication and storage, as it does not lead to a conventional digestive tract. Instead, nutrients are isolated and extracted within phagosomes, suspended in the fluid matrix. Resultantly, digestion of large items is visible to the onlooker and can be rather grisly to behold. 

Excepting musculostature of the jaw, tongue, and eyes, most of the executive node is devoted to dense nervous tissue. Though the internal membrane surrounding the EN is smooth, beneath are many layers of neural mesh. The eyes are only capable of detecting light, vague shapes, and movement. Visual stimuli are, in fact, the sensory modality to which these pokemon are least attuned.

Compensation takes the form of remarkable psy nodes (PNs). In solosis, this is the spiral emerging (almost ubiquitously) from their left side. In duosion, it is the mass settled directly above the EN. In reuniclus, the PN splits into two identical structures, capable of divergent focus. These are psychic sensory and projection organs. Though they have no perception of color, the pokemon utilize this psychic modality to see the world in astounding depth, including the electrostatic fields of living organisms. In addition, these organs are capable of generating copious amounts of psychic energy. This can either be reallocated throughout the body or released to do work in the environment (ex. levitation). 

Reuniclus and (to a lesser degree) duosion are possessed of a third nodal flavor; motor nodes (MNs). These are the tiny arms on duosion, which propagate into eight on structures on reuniclus. Together, they comprise a series of organs dedicated to the transformation of psychic energy to mechanical energy in the body and its subsequent coordination. This is why reuniclus is capable of crushing boulders (or, if severely provoked, skulls) with ease. Yet, despite formidable strength, they navigate their world and social interactions with gentleness and dexterity. 

Much of this navigation, as well as homeostatic maintenance, is derived from activities of the exterior membrane. Its design is rather reminiscent of a scaled-up fluid mosaic model (adding merit to solosis’ designation; the cell pokemon). With a hydrophobic layer mitigating problematic fluid loss and over intake, seven major cell types make up the membrane; M, T, F, O, S, A, and P. 

Motocells (M cells) are mobile units that grant the membrane its flexibility and dynamism. They also contribute to the hydrophobicity of the pokemon’s surface. Two flavors exist; intentional M cells and unintentional M cells. The complex intentional M cells are capable of adhering to, dragging, and releasing other components. This enables strategic arrangement and rearrangement of the membrane to suit the organism’s momentary needs.

Tactocells (T cells) are dedicated to sensation, occurring in several flavors. This enables the solosis line to detect, for example, varying degrees of heat and pressure. T cells are related to Fibrocells (F cells) which are the outermost aspects of the auditory pathway. They are covered in minuscule, hairlike projections to detect vibration. Olfactocells (O cells) are dedicated to chemical stimuli and exit in many thousands of flavors. Not only do these provide the pokemon with a sense of smell/taste, they work in tandem with T cells in the process of nociception (particularly where noxious, tissue-damaging materials are concerned). All three sensory cell types are in constant communication with the fluid matrix. 

Secretory cells (S cells) aid in digestion, neutralization, and excretion. When the solosis line eats, their exterior membrane engulfs the food item, forming a bubble. This is called a phagosome. Assuming the engulfed object is of acceptable size, S cells secrete enzymatic complexes for digestion. Afterwards, another flavor of S cell must neutralize and inhibit these molecules so that the contents of the phagosome can be safely released into the fluid matrix for absorption. Finally, after the bubble has collapsed and nutrients have been extracted, a waste capsule is formed. Here, new S cells refine the waste product for excretion via exocytosis.

In battle, S cells may also serve another purpose. The solosis line rarely learns the move toxic, but a select few trainers feel compelled to teach it. In these cases, digestive S cells overproduce their corrosive enzymes. Instead of breaking down the contents of a phagosome, this substance is wielded outside the body against a foe. 

Many pokemon (most actually) are able to learn toxic. However, not all perform this move identically. Vullaby and mandibuzz, for instance, regurgitate and launch streams of gastric acid. This is more than mildly unpleasant, as the acidity of the scavengers’ stomach is trumped only by that of gulpin and swalot. Battery acid is not so potent. In contrast, ekans and arbok perform the move either by spitting or injecting a venom with postsynaptic neurotoxic and anticoagulant properties. A variety of unexpected pokemon can master this move in ingenious (and often revolting) ways. I’ve witnessed a jigglypuff spew forth the vilest of secretions. 

Returning to the matter at hand, I would introduce auxillocells (A cells). These strengthen the membrane and, in cooperation with M cells, control the pokemon’s shape. Many A cells establish connections with fibers below the surface. When light shines through the transparent-translucent fluid matrix, a network of thin, glistening skeletal strands are revealed. Unlike our own skeleton, these can be assembled and disassembled rapidly in countless configurations. The kinematics involved, complicated sequences of polymerization and depolymerization in interaction with the fluid matrix, require further research. Recently, Professor Ria Dogwood proposed a modified version of the reactive interpenetrating flow theory, which may hold promise. 

The seventh and final membrane-cell type is the porecell (P cell). P cells detect and regulate solute concentrations in the body and adjacent environment, autonomically opening and closing channels. This prevents the matrix from becoming excessively hypotonic or hypertonic and it is through these channels that the pokemon receives moisture. Thus, like an amphibian, the solosis line drinks through its skin. When individuals anticipate dry times ahead, they often pinocytose volumes of liquid, which form constellations of bubbles. I’ve also seen this done with moomoo milk, which was apparently scrumptious enough to merit savoring and safe keeping. 

Various small porcells (SPCs) deal in the movement of materials such as water, salts, and macromolecules. Large porecells (LPCs) allow matrix fluid to flow in greater streams through the membrane. While this ‘bleeding’ may seem alarming from our perspective, it is normal, for this matrix fluid is unlike any other biological mixture. This soup of protein, free-floating organelles, immune cells, nucleotides, ions, and skeletal fibers can perform feats unimaginable to most organisms with startling efficiency. This is largely due to the solosis line’s odd genomic organization/regulatory methods and the Ca-Psy system (demanding outrageous portions of calcium). 

Fascinatingly enough, these pokemon can change the viscosity of their matrix fluid in highly specific, localized ways. This enables them to forgo a vascular and respiratory system, streaming oxygen, water, and nutrients in a nigh miraculous fashion for a creature of their size. Moreover, this allows them to exert pressure and absorb shock in combat, manipulating their surroundings and protecting their vulnerable nodes. 

Most intriguing to me is their ability to conduct nervous impulses through the fluid matrix. I cannot help but wonder if their transmission is slower than that of a traditional axonal pathway. After all, reuniclus has a base speed stat thirty six points lower than the average pokemon and forty eight points lower than the average fully-evolved specimen. Of course they are champions compared to the likes of sluggish shuckle, pyukumuku, and ferroseed. 

Anyone who has interacted with solosis, duosion, or reuniclus beyond the battlefield likely noticed one behavioral tendency almost immediately. They are extremely tactile. A trainer with disdain for touch (or slime) had best avoid this species. They have no concept of personal space; pleased to rest together in great gelatinous heaps. Reuniclus, in particular, ooze matrix fluid while holding hands with someone they appreciate. This can signify one of three things. A) They are attempting to mate. B) They are attempting to communicate. C) All of the above. 

Adjacent solosis, duosion, and reuniclus can exchange matrix fluid, permitting ions and genetic material through P cell channels. If individuals of the opposite sex participate, the famale can take the new genetic material, recombine it with her own, and produce zygotes. She then incubates her offspring within the fluid matrix for three weeks before it buds and detaches. This stationary, jellylike orb is often mistaken for an egg. It is, in fact, an immature solosis gradually gaining consciousness. 

Matrix exchange goes far beyond sex, though. The solosis line can also give unto one another nutrients, hormones, and, most extraordinarily, psychic energy and thoughts. These pokemon are almost entirely silent as they have no need for vocal cords. From a short distance, they can use their executive and psy nodes to transmit simple telepathic messages. Via matrix exchange, they can transmit memories so vivid members of the species commonly develop FMS (foreign memory syndrome), wherein they can no longer distinguish their partner’s experiences from their own. Furthermore, reuniclus who link hands can form temporary bioelectrical synchronicities, enhancing their psychic abilities. 

These pokemon are veritable geniuses of the natural world; certainly intelligent enough to know humans are incapable of matrix exchange. Nonetheless, they open their P cell channels to us just as they would any friend. In this, they exhibit the affectionate futility of a leavanny weaving straw bonnets for larvesta. 

Once we established contact, the residents of these limestone caves were eager to chatter telepathically and gather round the team. Gemma patiently endured their curiosity; outwardly stoic, though I suspect she was secretly amused. Feliks was obviously charmed and Rukka and Allegra basked in their element. If I’m not mistaken the eelektross even secreted some of his own conductive mucous, to the intrigue and delight of his newfound friends. The mucous couldn’t activate the Ca-psy system, but the reuniclus seemed to enjoy holding his ‘hands’ anyway. 

Regrettably, Keros and I deemed his presence an issue. Psychic types, even the childishly bold solosis line, are naturally wary of powerful ghosts (and chandelure boast an especially evil reputation). Lacking a nervous system or metabolism, true ghosts emit a highly atypical electrostatic output, incomprehensible to the psy node. The NSE of a chandelure’s aura (even dampened) is also disruptive to the psychics’ intricate ionic processes. Keros would, ultimately, unnerve and overwhelm them. 

However, after inquiry and extensive assurances of safety, four of the bravest reuniclus and one duosion agreed to make an exception to their aversion. Consequently, we were able to stage spectacular experiments (the data for which I am still sorting). With Keros, I was able to confirm that duosion are, not only dicerebral, but dispiritual organisms. Reuniclus, in contrast, are monocerebral and monospiritual. 

Like zweilous, duosion lose this property upon evolution. The dominant brain (and soul) persists in reuniclus while the other succumbs to destruction (and spiritual dissociation). In fact, the defeated brain tissue is metabolized to provide sufficient fuel for the evolutionary event. Unlike belligerent zweilous, some duosion seek never to evolve. The two individuals grow attached and the victor would grieve for the loss of their companion. 

The team also sought to discover whether polyspiritual status or even temporary spiritual fusion could be attained during a fluid matrix exchange. To accomplish this, Keros observed the movement of spiritual mass and energy while our four reuniclus volunteers demonstrated the behavior in question (many dozens of times). The results were complex and astonishing. 

It can be concluded that spiritual fusion does not occur. Each soul remains distinct and the energetic situation is unfavorable for purposes of fusion. Polyspiritualization was not so straightforward. The most intricate of exchanges involve the transmission of complicated, multimodal memories and thought synchronicities used to compound psychic ability. During the most intense periods, the spiritual structures of the reuniclus began to mirror one another until they were virtually indistinguishable. As the exchange ended, their spiritual states reflected that, once more differentiating. Mirroring, though impressive, is not exactly evidence for polyspiritualism. Though the reuniclus think in tandem and exchange matrix fluid, they are not a single organism. 

Yet one test demonstrated a phenomenon I have never before witnessed (nor has anyone else, as far as I know). There is no scientific term yet coined to describe it, so I shall call it mutual soul transposition. In the midst of a dual matrix exchange, the reuniclus switched souls. Not only that, but the incoming imprint caused the entire personality and memoryset to be transposed as well (SrPr bioelectrical mirroring).

At times, ghosts are known to bind new anchors. Sinistea, for example, do so upon evolution. Ghosts have also been known to force temporary polyspiritualization on the living by possessing them. Some are even rumored to dislodge the living soul and claim the body for themselves. The living, until now, were thought incapable of such feats. This is proof of the contrary. Scientifically, one instance of a phenomenon is hardly the basis for a solid argument. This proves that it can happen, not that it has happened before or will ever happen again. It may be a fluke. It may be the beginning of a novel and riveting study. Either way, I must investigate the means by which a living soul can be transposed onto a new anchor. 

Perhaps I might discuss this with my newest academic acquaintance, if I could only find a reliable way to contact them. I sense their burgeoning interest in accepting me as a client, though I am skeptical of their ethics. The voice who spoke to me in that subway station seemed one of a brilliant and barely supervised psychopath, concerned only with the satiation of curiosity. They have my intellectual respect, but certainly not my trust. Feliks especially dislikes the situation. Keros believes he can handle the threat, should relations sour. Gemma, ever confident, sides with him while Rukka and Allegra passively await a decision. Dear Milo, if he were here, would doubtlessly err on the side of caution alongside Feliks unless I issued an ultimatum otherwise. I am, as of yet, uncertain. My friend, Lorenzo Cypress, may offer refreshing insight. 

For now, such anxieties almost dissipate amidst the cheeriness of the reuniclus troop. For all the disorienting volatility of Keros’ aura, the volunteers bear no ill will towards him. Promised their safety, they also display a total lack of fear. There is no restraint; no deference to the chandelure’s might. The psychology of the solosis line intrigues me in this way. 

Before attempting to train a pokemon or interact closely with wild groups, it is critical to understand that species’ hierarchical organization. In packs of bisharp and pawniard, status and the surrounding customs sometimes take precedence over the most basic needs. Pawniard usually address their alphas with fanatical hero-worship or thinly veiled, seething envy; sometimes both. Their utmost desire is either to increase in strength until they are competent enough to replace their leader or die in glorious combat as a vassal. The trainer is that leader and weakness will be seen as an opportunity to incite a power struggle. Pawniard and bisharp are not a shoulder to cry on. They are a soldier to command, who will gladly lay down their life for an alpha who embodies strength. 

Litwick engage in fewer hierarchical disputes and are more open to sensitivity. They can discern, merely by proximity to aura, where they stand, spiritually, compared to their peers. Consequently, they almost always defer to those with superior spiritual mass and experience. The most powerful individuals lead without conflict. Rarely is there a need to enforce authority. Older and stronger litwick and lampent naturally mentor, protect, and command members of their kind to promote the strength of the colony. Keros, despite being a (typically solitary) chandelure, perceives himself in this position of responsibility. Though I cannot match him in power, he values my intelligence, mental fortitude, charisma, and ability to maneuver in human society enough to place me beside him in our team hierarchy. 

Besides prey, the solosis line does not impose its will on anyone. They are altruistic, willing to share resources and defend one another (and occasionally strangers) from peril. However, a chain of command is virtually nonexistent. If the troop is faced with a dilemma, anyone may offer an idea. They may also ignore that idea and execute their own. Reuniclus and, in their absence, duosion are, by default, the primary defenders and often advise younger members of the troop. This is inevitable, considering their wisdom and prowess. Yet, they make no demands and expect no reverence in return. For a species that regularly participates in communal thought exchange, they are oddly individualistic. 

Humans are quite hierarchical, and this pokemon’s behavior disturbs many trainers. They fear the solosis’ line cannot be reliably controlled and will set an unfortunate example for other members of their team. After all, one disobedient teammate is sometimes all it takes to begin a revolt. These fears may be assuaged by the pokemon’s affable, optimistic, and highly suggestible nature. If a trainer does their part correctly, a member of the solosis line will eagerly obey them, not because they are loyal to a master, but because they love their friend and appreciate their suggestions.

Alongside hierarchy and personal space, the solosis line is similarly unaware of discretion. These pokemon do not keep secrets from one another. Regular matrix exchange and telepathic conversation ensure that. Elgyem understand discretion, though they sometimes misjudge which information their trainers consider private. The solosis line must be told explicitly that the sharing of certain information will hurt you, or they may broadcast it on a whim. Thankfully, their telepathy is not so well articulated as elgyem’s, limiting the eloquence and specificity with which they can reveal your deepest insecurities to the public. They idealistically assume that other humans will be universally understanding of their trainer’s flaws (we are not). 

Keros has disdain for their optimism and, of course, is touched by urges to inflict violence upon them. However, he is also fondly reminded of his own kind’s inclination to share lifeforce. Keros’ opinions on anything are complicated. He is incapable of untainted positivity. Nature dictates that a chandelure cannot appreciate something without wanting to obliterate it at least a little (or a lot). Even I, for whom he would suffer to protect, elicit this predatory urge. Furthermore, it is not merely the instinctual jolt of a boltund when a skwovet dashes past. It is the rage of loathing. 

For Keros to sincerely like something means that his good feelings towards it are potent enough to ring out over the ceaseless undercurrent of negativity. Truly, it is quite beautiful, though tinged by melancholy. Every modicum of joy is a triumph. Every affirmation of love is a revolution. I am inexpressibly proud of Keros for that which he overcomes in each moment. Those who detest him know not the staggering detestation he fought to spare them his lethal fury. 

Each of us bear a curse. His is that of hatred. Feliks suffers one of alienation. They have lived in a world of humans since the age of three weeks, cultivating human habits, skills, and ethics. They pursue scholarship and music; employ computers, currency, and relish riding their bike. Still, despite prodigious intelligence, they cannot hold a professorship at a university nor can they even hold a wage or passport in their name. Feliks is not human. 

Yet, are they zoroark? Feliks matured with us. They have only seen their ancestral community from the perspective of a tourist. Feliks is possessed of zoroark instincts and is knowledgeable regarding their culture. Yet, they do not know this culture on a basal level, just as a language student struggles to achieve that effortless, rooted harmony with which a native speaker lives in their tongue. Lorenzo inquired if I worried that Feliks would appeal to remain with the zoroark clans we visited. I knew my friend would not and, when it came time to depart, they followed without hesitation. 

There were times when Feliks employed illusions to emulate humanity. They could not bear to adopt these personas on a permanent basis, though, for it reeked of shame and betrayal. Feliks desires respect from human society as a zoroark. They exist on the fringes of belonging. Meanwhile, Gemma pines for Milo; a mate who is dead. Rukka and Allegra, incomprehensibly selfless, seek nothing more than the contentment of their loved ones. Their loved ones can never be satisfied. 

These are anguishes which cannot be assuaged. To them, I may offer only this; you are not of my blood, but I would spill my blood for you. I cannot dissolve your burden but, grant me trust, and I will bear it beside you. I cannot know the deepest truths of your heart but, let me listen, and I shall endeavor to understand and offer my secrets in turn. You are my family.


	25. May 28th, 21:36, New Boons in Old Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 28th, 21:36, Travel log of Aidan Rode  
If Maria weren’t married with three kids and a squabbling pack of grand-beasts, I would drop to my knees this instant and pledge my heart. Before this day, I had, indeed, read Dr. Skye’s thoughts on solosis, duosion, and reuniclus, as well as the subsequent formal research paper. It is now apparent that my version was heavily censored. Maria, who likely scanned the original source, has accidentally delivered novel content. Often the dearest treasures rest in antique haunts. 

All text after the paragraph on the solosis line’s lack of discretion was entirely new to me. Considering its deeply intimate nature and abrupt tone shift, I understand why this portion might have been omitted from the public edition. However, her concerns regarding Keros and Feliks were not unfamiliar. After all, I have perused many of her explicitly personal records. Dr. Skye kept a journal not unlike my own travel log. It brimmed with sentiments and scientific hypotheses, frivolous notes, drafted librettos, musical sketches, and (admittedly awful) anatomical drawings. I confess, my own drawings aren't worthy of even my mum's refrigerator. 

The conclusion of this journal entry might serve as a reminder to all pokemon trainers. The creatures who stand beside us are emotional individuals with their own trials and tribulations. As friends, leaders, whatever we may be to them, it is vital to be there for them. As much as we rely on our pokemon, they also rely on us. Vivi, for all her energetic temerity, seeks sanctuary and someone to lovingly groom her feathers each night. She’s bold because she knows, if things truly went awry, I have her back. Additionally, Clarisse, Baron, I each take the time to tend her plumage, just as a mandibuzz guardian would. 

Baron himself struggles, to my dismay, with his image as a subpar pokemon. Patrat and watchog are hypervigilant creatures, continually wary that some predator or another will devour them and their loved ones. Furthermore, beginner trainers often catch them, name them, and make them feel important, only to release them later. They are, at times, forced to surrender their position to less experienced pokemon, as these rivals are of a species that is rarer, a desired type, or possessed of greater potential power. As a result, Baron’s kind are prone to severe inferiority complexes, sometimes in association with depression. I can’t prove it, but many of my watchog’s behaviors suggest an abandonment event before meeting Clarisse and I. Thus, I must convey to Baron, in particular, my unconditional love and appreciation for his contributions. I’d also revel in the chance to find the trainer who ditched him and introduce their face to a pair of brass knuckles. 

Clarisse was my starter and I confess to treating her as something akin to my child in youth. I read her the same storybooks as Luca, walked her round the block in a stroller, and even learned knitting (poorly) to make her a blanket. Ironically, my baby has established herself as a mother figure to the entire team (including the human who raised her). 

That being said, even a mother of extreme patience and fortitude requires an occasional respite from duty. Clarisse constantly places our needs before her own. Simply to watch her go about the day is somehow exhausting. After hours of training in the basement arena, her companions settled to sleep. She, instead, organized my paperwork, folded my clothes, mended that tear in my jacket, and would have done Arceus knows what else if I hadn’t insisted she rest. I’m ecstatic to see her flirt with that maractus; cater to her own desires, for once… even if Vivi’s unsupervised and Felicia’s sketchy. 

Speaking of sketchy, another paragraph was absent in the censored version of Dr. Skye’s notes; the section regarding her “newest academic acquaintance.” Again descending to that abyssal realm traversed only by conspiracy freaks, I am drawn to the date at which it was written. This text was penned approximately two months before the letter to Professor Cypress, requesting elusive neuroscience literature. In this paragraph, Dr. Skye mentioned the possibility of consulting Lorenzo Cypress on her dilemma. The issue in question involved a mysterious, brilliant, and, according to Julianne, amoral individual. Additionally, she sought to contact said individual as a client. Her pokemon perceived a threat. Even Keros and Gemma’s insistence that they could handle this character implies hostility to handle. 

Maybe it’s too grand an extrapolation but might this be one of the “medical associates” condemned by Professor Cypress? Furthermore, might this be a beheeyem? They were described here as intelligent, unethical, and enough to spook members of Dr. Skye’s impressive pokemon team. Then again, they spoke to Julianne in a subway station. Pokemon of such disrepute are not exactly welcome on public transportation. If not a beheeyem in person, perhaps a puppet? I shudder at the thought. 

Soon, these ideas will be presented to Maria Cypress and Sofia Mori. In the meantime, I must also deliberate upon what in Zekrom’s name you’re supposed to wear to a late-night jam session (where I’m certain to face musical humiliation). Clarisse would like me to sport the dyed beachgrass vest she’s woven but I’m rather tentative about that particular shade of electric magenta.


	26. May 29th, 02:41, Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 29th, 02:41, Travel log of Aidan Rode-  
I feel as if some miasma; some noxious amalgamation of woe has been expelled from my body. The ire and fear has lifted from my mind by the grace of music. Life is so incredibly complicated but music makes it seem so incredibly simple. Such focus is required to play that it's impossible to think of anything else; impossible to brood, to fret, to ponder. Music is freedom. Until now, I had been away from the piano for so long, stifled by insecurity, that it was easy to forget what that felt like. Julianne once said that she was never so free as when she played the cello. Tonight, I remembered why. 

Though Undella Town doesn’t draw massive crowds until high summer, a fair number of hotel patrons arrived in the parlor to observe our jam-session. I don’t blame them. Felicia is an excellent trumpeter. She holds the instrument with confidence, reverence, and absolute comfort, such that it seems an extension of herself. Furthermore, aside from her reunion with Allie (and the subsequent beastial threat), she's never appeared so alive. In conversation and battle alike, Felicia is remarkably stoic. Even as she speaks charged words, her face is uncannily expressionless. Her music, however, is not. 

Teenagers often go to extreme lengths to seem greater than they are. They are desperate to convince the world they're cool and clever; that they’ve seen and done it all. Felicia’s music is possessed of maturity and complexity; pain and passion that I cannot imagine was faked. Assuming she’s not a fugitive, the trumpeter could probably nail an audition with a decent orchestra. The Castelia philharmonic is a longshot, but I believe she has solid chances with Virbank or Driftveil. 

Of the pieces we played, the most engaging was certainly the Buko/Villade Concerto in D minor. Felicia brought selections with more challenging trumpet parts than piano parts, for which I am immensely grateful. I couldn’t have kept up, otherwise. Arceus, what if she’d chosen a monster like the Hinema Sonata...Sight reading that would have destroyed me; guts spilled across the keyboard, musically eviscerated. That’s not to say the runs and ornamentation in the Buko/Villade didn’t also kick my ass. Some sections of the allegro had my fingers positively tripping over themselves. Baron deserves a medal for turning pages. 

The struggle was entirely worth it, though. There was one moment in particular, fragile, glorious, and strange, that I cannot banish from my thoughts. Felicia and I were swept away by the rapture and industry of playing. Around us, our pokemon danced; Clarisse alongside Allie, Baron and Vivi atop R’s swaying form as we approached the peak of a crescendo. Suddenly, while Felicia held her trumpet aloft, the world seemed to ripple in this bizarre blur of sight and sound. Overwhelmed by euphoric chills, I watched as the air bled blues, and reds, and blacks. Meeting Felicia’s blazing eye, I couldn’t tell you what I was seeing. Perhaps it was musical frisson; perhaps transcendental harmony. I sound like a lunatic but that’s the arts world for you. It's also almost 3:00AM (crazy o'clock in the morning). 

I suspect this was all part of Felicia’s plan to get me onboard with her insanity. In some sense, I now know her in astonishing depth. In another, I hardly know her at all. She speaks of her family often and highly. In fact, Felicia’s musical inspiration was her eldest sister. The trumpeter was originally intent on learning a string instrument but found she lacked the finger dexterity. After searching for her sound, she finally settled on brass and her sister, not older than fourteen, arranged and paid for trumpet lessons. 

Their parents, apparently, were a bit of a disaster. They saw no point in Felicia learning an instrument and, thus, refused to invest in such. Felicia’s elder brother and sister were the true parental figures in their household; her mentors and dearest friends. Said older brother, despite being perpetually irate and displaying little musical inclination, was a splendid audience. 

To reminisce together was bliss (and aided by a bit of hard cider on my part). I spoke of my teacher looking on pitilessly as my hand cramped and spazzed in lessons. She told me how her sister would casually walk into a room during practice, whisper with great severity “your E flat is flat,” and leave without ceremony. I may not know if Felicia is even this girl’s real name, but I do now know her happiest memory. It was the first time her sister snuck her into a pit orchestra. She joined for the entire Stusso opera, "The Knight of the Roselia." None there had a clue who she was but all knew she could play and, thus, embraced her anyway. 

It astounds me how complete strangers can accept someone, purely for their skill and passion, but parents may still decline their children's dreams. Dr Skye’s own family exhibited odd behavior in regards to musical pursuits. Her father paid for her cello lessons and John's drum lessons purely to spite their mother. Kathryn Skye believed the instruments a distraction from academics. Neither were interested in music for its own sake. As Julianne established a reputation, Jackson Skye occasionally began to attend concerts. Kathryn Milas (formerly Skye) was reportedly spotted in the audience of "The Masquerade". However, mother and daughter were, at that point, so estranged, they didn’t so much as exchange a glance that night. 

Her brother, in contrast, was passionately supportive. They had an artistic understanding of sorts. John himself was an amateur jazz drummer. Supposedly, he’d taken a few gigs at The Luxray Lounge; a jazz club in Jubilife City, not far from my undergrad alma mater. 

My own parents couldn’t care less for the piano. There was an upright in our living room (a family heirloom) that I begged my mother not to sell. That didn’t stop Luca’s simisear from leaving pokepuff crumbs all over the keys but I can only win so many battles. I’m wasn't convinced I could triumph in an argument with someone who spat literal fire. 

Budgeting was an infuriating task. I saved a portion of the funds I acquired tutoring to pay for weekly lessons. Aid occasionally came from my father, who made a decent sum as a coordinator. He used to send us checks. The last one was eight years ago from Lumiose City but I’m uncertain where he is now. He could be rotting six feet under, for all I know. Anyway, lessons were free in college through the music department and I’m glad dad's ceased sending money. My mother could hardly stand to look at it, let alone spend it. Sometimes I like to pretend my father died when I was seven. It transforms him, momentarily, into a person I respect. 

I haven’t yet updated Sofia on my latest discovery (the reuniclus paper), but the trainer sent word regarding Dr. Skye’s cipher. She and John’s children will aid in this endeavor to find the key. Said children (middle-aged adults) are called Joshua Skye (cellist), Joy Skye (league announcer, not to be mistaken for a nurse), and James Skye (financial advisor). They adored their aunt and view Sofia as family in her own right. It's rather beautiful that Dr. Skye, despite her disappearance, continues bringing people together.

It also strikes me, reading their names, just how much sadistic trolling seems to run in the Skye family. Over the course of four generations, they’ve cultivated a bewildering tradition of J-names. It all began with Jackson, who decided to have children named Julianne and John, who married Julia, who decided to have children named Joshua, Joy, and James, who decided to have children named Josefine, Jason, June, and, oddly enough, Elliot. It’s clearly meant to confuse the ever-loving crap out of everyone and I can’t tell whether Elliot makes it better or worse. 

I won’t dwell upon that as I take my repose. Before the hotel staff ousted us from the parlor (and I thought Vivi would be the one to elicit a noise complaint) Felicia was playing this familiar, wistful tune. I think I’ve heard it sung before but I can’t quite place the melody. I’m not a phenomenal vocalist by any means but, tonight, I managed to sing Baron to sleep on my pillow. That’s as good as a standing ovation.


	27. May 29th, 20:31, Letter to Sofia Mori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer - I do not own Pokemon and expect no profit from this endeavor.

May 29th, 20:31, Travel log and Aidan Rode-  
I have officially accepted Felicia’s proposal, though it pains me to concede but she was right. Such an opportunity is irresistible to me. I will permit her to use my NSEmeter (with supervision) and pray she doesn’t rent us a teensy rowboat to traverse the bay. Perhaps I’ll even be granted a chance to investigate the area surrounding The Abyssal Ruins. That aside, though last night inspired a certain closeness between us, it would be preferable to have water type on my side should things go awry far from shore.

Thus, I returned to Alomomola Scuba Shoppe to inquire about hiring their pokemon as guides. Kato was napping upstairs but his son leapt to offer slightly soggy cookies. If the rate at which my watchog scarfed them down was any indication, soggy cookies are, in fact, a delicacy. Meanwhile, Matt told me that Hugh, their alomomola, is a retired adventurer; more of a mascot to the shop than anything. Sometimes, he helps facilitate dive training and swim lessons but, mostly, he lazes about in the pool. Bubbles is better suited to the task I have in mind. I still find myself somewhat intimidated by the samurott but perhaps his imposing demeanor is appropriate for the job. Furthermore, he’s fond of Clarisse (she tends to have the effect). 

After arrangements with Matt and Bubbles for the impending expedition, I recalled Felicia’s mention of diving at the cafe. I then asked Matt if he knew anyone by the name of Felicia Kerian; teenage girl, black hair, blue eyes, average height, dark clothing, traveling with an eelektross and a maractus. He didn’t recognize her. At that point, I informed him that she clearly knew them or, at least, of them. Felicia had mentioned Kato’s lanturn (present tense). Matt and I both agreed this was rather strange. His father’s pokemon is deceased. However, Matt continued, “Layla didn't pass recently. She died 25 years ago.” It's more likely that Felicia's parents or older friends knew Kato and his lanturn, not the trainer herself. 

Matt promised that he’d ask his father about her and get back to me when I came for Bubbles. Kato forgets how to tie his own shoes but has an odd way of remembering random, specific details. His son swears that the man can describe every psyduck stamp distributed in the history of the Johto postal service. 

My acceptance of Felicia’s proposal was sealed when she called me this morning (we exchanged numbers last night). The trainer thinks she may have left a valve cap (whatever that is) at the hotel. Her description was, “it looks a bit like a brass bottle cap with a hole in the middle.” She claims to have an extra but she’d rather not disturb it. The object was left in a rather inconvenient place as a tribute. To retrieve it would feel like grave robbing. I can empathize. Grave robbing, in some sense, has become a prominent hobby of mine. The only thing stopping me from deeming it a profession is the fact that no one pays me. Digging up Dr. Skye’s literary remains is far from lucrative but I find it rewarding, nonetheless. 

It’s hardly noteworthy that Felicia’s number is not listed anywhere online. I caught a glimpse of her xtransceiver, however, and it is positively ancient. The device looks like a graphing calculator. It’s the type of thing you only encounter in four places; outdated movies, antique shops, and in the hands of, either, people who are afraid of technology or those especially determined to stay off the grid. I’m guessing Felicia is option four. I don’t take her for a collector and she’s clearly not afraid of progress if she’s willing to use my experimental tech. 

I question, again, if someone’s after her or she’s just another paranoid tinfoil hat nutter without the foil. My grandmother appeared a picture of normalcy but refused the annual flu shot on the belief that it promoted toe cancer. Either way, Felicia is suspicious (yet oddly endearing) and I’m going to help her contact what’s potentially an eldritch abomination. Hurrah. 

Aside from further attempts at the cipher, I was moved to reread a letter from Dr. Skye to Sofia Mori this afternoon (sent five months after the aforementioned exchange with Prof. Cypress). Current theories and revelations led me to view this document in a novel light. Perhaps it may yield support for my speculations…

To the beloved asshat who owes me hot chocolate *1*,  
You were spectacular in the arena, as usual *2*. The foolish camera crew should have focused on Arren’s stunning flare blitz against that machamp and not the borderline streaker tripping through the stands. Your entire team embodies a remarkable power and grace, the development of which I have been privileged to witness. However, I do recommend modifying your AR evasive drills *3* with Howl. Complacency is the enemy of victory *4*. You may be a renowned trainer but I am still your coach *5*and a deino would have seen that fiasco with the gyarados coming. 

On the subject of foresight, should your plans to arrive in October remain, *6* I would be ecstatic to introduce you to my humble construction project. I have built a hut in the Unovan desert. The architecture implements passive cooling techniques so that I might safely store my temperamental instruments and escape wading in a pool of my own sweat. While I suspect you would be impressed by the sublime desert sunset, I suspect you would be equally unimpressed by my privy. To exist in a mudhut entails a simple way of life *7*. Perhaps you think my priorities skewed. After all, I regularly purchase luxury cello strings but cleanse myself with a bucket of cold water. Do you recall sleeping in Lorenzo’s garden with Kiki until the heavens opened to drench you? It feels a bit like that. 

Yet, this place is impeccably suited to my needs. It is a sanctuary. Here, I may pursue my work without the din of civilization or the scrutiny of prying eyes *8*. The experimental processes taking place are extremely taxing, physically and emotionally *9*. In their wake, I am appreciative of a mere moment of serenity. The hut also places me within range of my local consultants, who continually monitor these delicate proceedings *10*.

Allegra is particularly comfortable. She was born in the desert and finds it nostalgic to wander her homeland. This exploration doesn’t trouble me. Her species is well adapted to the scalding solar glare and the mighty rasping winds of sandstorms. Rukka and Gemma are ardent students of Allegra’s desert survival lessons. I am tentative, however, to allow the eelektross to roam far from our groundwater well. As an amphibious creature, he is terribly moisture dependent *11*.

This place is, by no means, a permanent abode. The hut is meant for a few days, perhaps a few weeks, consecutive dwelling. I am not some ornery recluse who despises society. It would be rude to steal Keros’ niche. I believe I have created something good, though; somewhere that belongs solely to my family and I. There are no official trails that lead here *12*. If you deign to visit, it would be prudent to inform me in advance so that one of us might guide you. The wilderness surrounding route 9 can be an especially dangerous place for lost travelers and not all who may find you mean to help *13*. 

Speaking of which, I would be honored to offer help regarding your ambitions to found a battle academy *14*. You are guaranteed my full endorsement and counsel. No compensation is required (though I am struck by a craving for that matcha chocolate from Cherrygrove City). Should you succeed, I imagine Johnny might even apply for a teaching post *15*. He is, was, and shall always be a doofus but, I admit he has matured into an individual worthy of admiration from all doofuskind. That being said, I know you’re exchanging undignified photographs of Feliks. When they find out (and they will) I refuse to defend either of you from petty vengeance. 

I bid you and your team joy (and reject your criticism of my magnificent cello case stickers).  
Sincerely,  
JVS 

P.S. When Johnny’s caravan of chaos arrives in Goldenrod, remind Joshua to present you with our gift (he can be rather forgetful). We’ve devised a novel blend of victreebel fertilizer in which Yuki is certain to enjoy rooting. 

*1* Julianne was distinctly less formal with her student than her mentor. It's truly no wonder Sofia found me so polite. 

*2* Sofia was competing in a Johto-Kanto battle conference. Julianne often watched Sofia, live or via broadcast, in an expression of support (and as means to offer critique). 

*3* AR (advance-retreat) evasive techniques pertain to a pokemon’s ability to regulate the dynamic distance between themselves and their opponent. Those skilled in AR evasion often cause their adversaries to miscalculate in their attacks. Thus, they avoid damage and can take advantage of the resultant opening. 

*4* Julianne Vespera Skye proved that it is possible to be bad at relaxing. She found complacency so alarming that periods of prolonged inactivity caused her intense anxiety. 

*5* Assuming Dr. Skye didn’t play dirty, Sofia and her team eventually overtook their mentor in terms of battle prowess. Julianne was, first and foremost, a scientist and musician. Sofia Mori was a professional pokemon trainer and, eventually, battle academy headmaster. However, Dr. Skye and her team, brilliant and unorthodox, continually offered challenges and surprises. 

*6* Sofia Mori frequently traveled to Unova, sometimes for business, sometimes for pleasure, sometimes for both. 

*7*In her 60s, Dr. Skye would spend weeks at a time at her hut. She even brought a small piano to furnish it. Despite having a piano, the toilet situation was never more sophisticated than the privy a ways from the main building. 

*8*Julianne was secretive but, for the majority of her career, seemed to thrive on travel and exchange. With a few exceptions (ex, coaching John and Sofia in Undella town) she rarely remained in one place for long and interacted, professionally, with a plethora of other scientists and musicians. It was only during the final years that she began to withdraw and her research took on a more individual flavor. Dr. Skye’s entire body of work regarding spiritual science (and, to some extent, pokelinguistics) was steeped in controversy. At a glance, the latest research was no more outrageous than her earlier studies. So, why develop this new preference for isolation? 

*9*Sofia and I discussed the possibility that Dr. Skye was performing NSE experiments on herself (likely with Keros’ help). Could this be what so taxed her, “physically and emotionally?” Then again, I posited another theory; that she suffered some affliction and sought experimental treatment. Perhaps the treatment itself involved the manipulation of electrophysiology via spiritual physiology. Much of the work published throughout Dr. Skye's 50s and 60s pertained to such. 

*10*Are these consultants the same associates she met at the desert rendezvous? Are they related to the person mentioned in her solosis, duosion, and reuniclus journal? They were local, which I take to mean, based in or near the desert. Are they doctors? Scientists? Beheeyem? 

*11* Eelektross are commonly found along shorelines and estuaries, emerging from the water to ambush prey or seek their breeding grounds. They absorb and lose moisture readily through their skin and sometimes secrete conductive mucous. Consequently, Dr. Skye was probably forced to frequently “water” Rukka during their stay in the desert. 

*12*After leaving Undella Town, I intend to seek this place. I do not intend, however, intend to get lost in the Unovan desert. I wonder if Sofia knows the way? 

*13* Well, that’s ominous. Besides the looming danger of heatstroke, dehydration, and sandstorms, some native fauna can also pose a threat. Packs of scraggy/scrafty and the rarer krookodile have been known to attack humans. Route 9 is also 10 miles from the edge of beheeyem territory (a well-established deathtrap). 

*14*Sofia was 36 years old when this letter was written. Her Johto battle Academy wouldn’t open until she was 49 but, even at this moment, her dream was alive (albeit in its infancy). Dr. Skye did, as promised, help her acquire financial support and staff. I'm uncertain whether or not Sofia delivered the matcha chocolate from Cherrygrove city, though I suspect Julianne found the means to procure it anyway. 

*15*At age 67, John Skye became an instructor at the academy and served for many years. Instead of learning side by side, as before, he and Sofia found themselves teaching side by side (though instructors often learn, inadvertently, from their students). His grandson, Jason, now attends classes there.


End file.
